Don't Say A Word
by BleedTheScene
Summary: Emma Swan, an orphan forced into servitude after being found guilty of petty theft, finds herself caught in the crosshairs of the Evil Queen on her seventeenth birthday. No Curse, story takes place in Fairy Tale Land. AU, Slightly OOC. Rated M for language and future adult situations. Eventual SwanQueen.
1. Chapter 1

**SwanQueen, AU, Slightly OOC. Rated M for language and future adult situations. No beta, so all mistakes are my own (see Author's Note below). No curse. Takes place in Fairy Tale Land seventeen years after the birth of Emma. Emma Swan, an orphan forced into servitude after being found guilty of petty theft, finds herself caught in the crosshairs of the Evil Queen.**

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Sunny days usually caused grief for Emma, or as much of a sour mood as she would allow creeping into her usual demeanor. Sunny days meant good omens for most, an unforeseen lightness that brightened spirits and made way for jovial plans. Everything Emma wished for on a day like today. Normally those rules didn't apply to this particular girl, but as Emma watched the sun beat against one of the small windows of the servants' quarters, her thoughts were genuinely pleasant. Sun meant outdoor work and on a day like this Emma was grateful for that. Celebrating her birthday in the stables by herself was better than being stuck with all the other servants in the kitchens.

Generally her life at the Dark Palace was as bleak as it got for a young girl without noble lineage. Lacking any sort of structure or parental guidance Emma had wandered the streets since she was a little girl. Being alone was all the blonde had known. Her first memory that came to mind was the feeling of rain pounding down on the ground as the palace guards dragged her inside the dreary fortress. They were draped in dark colored armor and without mercy, as Emma was condemned to lifelong servitude for picking pockets in a village nearby the blackened fortress. All things considered Emma Swan was lucky to still have her life. Seventeen and miserable was better than eight and dead.

For the majority of her time at the castle she had ignored the nagging personalities and forced unity of the crowded quarters. None of the fellow servants were in her good graces since they had constantly broken her concentration and peaceful bliss of enjoying any moment by herself. Emma stole a glance towards the rear corner of the room at the very pair that held her current contempt. To the outside world they were a loving couple that would have appeared to be untouched by age, but to the astute teenager she noticed the subtle changes that had appeared over time. Gray threaten to break through the man's naturally dark hair and the woman tried to hide the new lines developing around her eyes. They had probably slowed down considerably with the arrival of their youngest child, Richard.

The younger boy sat between them, restlessly jittering on the small hay stacked bed after only a few moments of remaining still as his parents enjoyed the morning break. He had inherited his father's looks, but also had his own sense of boundless youthful energy and curiosity. Emma assumed he was at least five years old by now and caused constant chaos in the married couples lives without proper supervision. While the older servants worked diligently to keep up with the Queen's demands, the younger children roamed wild until they were old enough to assist. Right now Jonathon, the moody looking older brother had a soft spot for the cheeky looking Richard when he was in a good enough mood. Emma outwardly feigned indifference to the boy while secretly jealous of the family.

Jonathan currently had his fat cheek pressed against a window as his breath fogged up the glass. He was staring blankly out of his window as people rushed by. If it wasn't for his strong gaze directed towards the soldiers marching by Emma would have assumed the older brother was a complete moron. He still held onto some of his childhood weight, but his arms looked like that of a gorilla. With the lack of common sense and his borderline anger issues he resembled a brute animal rather than civilized human being. Puberty caused Emma and the Fletcher's son to grow apart. All of these thoughts rushed through Emma's mind as she tried to distract herself from what she was really feeling. As someone who had no real family to instruct her growing up, she made it her mission to be good at reading people.

Emma clenched her jaw as the younger boy Richard caught her gaze. His smile irked her more than she had thought it would. In a childish attempt to avoid her rush of memories her stare remained steady as the rest of the world scurried out of their beds to begin their day of service. The game of chicken ended when Richard's mother tore the boy away from the little staring contest. The Fletcher's wife shot Emma a reprimanding look before returning her attention to her family. Another makeshift mother figure trying to put the blonde haired teen in her place. It was like all the mother and father figures that thought they could 'fix' the aloof Emma. Why couldn't she stay where she felt comfortable and not be forced to interact with the outside world? Society wanted nothing to do with the little lost boys and misfits of the world and Emma felt the same way towards conventional society. Unfortunately being an orphan was low on the totem pole when it came to freedom of choice. Emma cast a quick look down at her white shirt, well-worn saddle pants and rugged laced up boots and sighed at her own appearance.

The sound of scuffling feet caused Emma to break away from her clothes. The little boy was saved from any further stare downs from the moody seventeen year old. Emma couldn't be mad at him for all of this. The boy simply did as he was told, no questions asked, in a wonderful fantasy life that his parents tried to keep him in. Richard had explained to her once that he was special and there was no way the Evil Queen could ever force him to work when he got older. When she was a younger girl she got rid of those delusions rather quickly. Trying to explain that to the other children was like talking to a wall. Emma hated Richard the least though out of all the other family members she had the misfortune of staring down.

Scattered around Emma's bed were a few beat up looking leather bound books filled with her aimless drawings. The powers that be in the universe had held Emma back from learning how to read or write properly, like many of the other poor folk in the kingdom. She could identify a few words she had picked up from over the years, but not enough to be classified as literate. That privilege was reserved for the noble families who could afford tutors. One day though she would finally get out of this God forsaken land and start a life of her own, without having to follow anyone else's rules.

Growing up most people were too afraid to associate with Emma's social status as a bastard child. She was viewed as a social pariah to both the servants and the guardsmen. For the most part she was either ignored or put down. The only person who seemed to take pity on her was the older man who worked down at the stables with her. Trouble was his sympathy didn't stretch very far. He was strict with her; constantly reminding her how important their work was for the Kingdom, which baffled Emma seeing as they merely took care of the horses.

This was Emma's personal form of Hell. Before taking a vow of silence towards almost all adult figures she had made a personal promise to herself. No longer would she ruffle feathers through physical means and meaningless childhood threats. The rebellious stage of her teenage life was over now she decided. If the Kingdom was going to force her to be viewed as a second-class citizen she was going to give them a hard time in her own personal way. Emma would show them how much better she was than them by cleaning herself up and become what they always would hate, a success story. Then when they least expect it, she could make her getaway right from underneath their noses.

As a trio of teenage girls entered Emma's view she stared down the group. They may have varied in appearances, but they were all the same to the shrewd girl; girls trying to awkwardly deal with the strange transition between young girls and women. Some overcompensated by feverishly belittling others just so they could hide their own insecurities. What good did it do them when everyone here was forced to serve? They covered up by attaching themselves to boys and stepping over each other to reach the top of the social pyramid established in the servants' quarter. Emma didn't feel the need for any of that in her life and she refused to play the little games. She needed no assistance and she sure as hell wasn't going to bend a knee to the will of others that were clearly as unfortunate as her.

As someone approached her bed Emma was quick to draw her attention to the figure in front of her. With a controlled disposition, Emma Swan looked up at the person who interrupted her judgmental musings. A stocky man, clearly no longer in the prime of his youth, gave Emma's leg a quick jostle before leering over her. There was no kindness in the Butcher's eyes as he did his best to look through Emma. "Get up Swan," he spat out, "Don't think you can waste your precious time while everyone else has to work." Her gaze was steeled as she stared down the Butcher. Though Swan was her official surname, it was more or less a moniker used to identify her as a Bastard child. Swan, Rivers, Woods, all names given to children who were abandoned or disowned by their parents. The blonde had no love for anyone who used it as a means to further belittle her station.

Without further prompt the teenager rose from her bed and made herself scarce from the Butcher's sight. She didn't need to justify him with a response. Heavy steps echoed through the corridors as Emma stormed her way to the private stables. Ignoring the unpleasant looks from the passing guards, Emma pushed open the heavy wooden doors. For years she had made the same passage from her bed to the stables, her presence no longer question by the guards who were familiar with the blonde by now. The stables were hardly ever used but the maintenance was expected to be all above board. The Evil Queen valued the few horses housed there or at least that was what the Stable Master, Robert Parker, had told her. Not once had Emma seen anyone other than Parker and herself in the confines.

"You're late," a gruff voice called out. A man, slightly older than sixty, slammed down his hay rake as he cast Emma a reprimanding look. Parker's frame was once a strong able body, tanned by long hours out in the sun and by years of hard labor. Now all that remained was a man beaten down by the world, cold blue eyes void of the idealism they once had, a body covered with minor scars. He looked exactly how Emma felt most days. Parker reached towards his back pocket and tossed the younger girl a pair of working gloves. "Your friend has been acting up again. Better make sure he's alright."

Catching the gloves, Emma stretched the worn leather material over her hands. "Hello Emma, how are you today? Oh just fine Parker, just another lovely day here in the Kingdom about to shovel horseshit. Happy Birthday to me" she called out sarcastically. While making her way to the back of the stable Emma turned on her heel and continued to walk backwards as she called out to Parker. "Oh wait, royal horseshit," she grinned at her superior. "Even better."

Approaching the only pen occupied in the back of the stable Emma unlatched the closed gate and slipped in. "Hey buddy." The blonde slowly held her hand up to the aging steed. His eyes were glossed over with a milky film. The horse's lack of sight helped in furthering the distrust the animal had towards visitors. Emma slowly eased a glove hand over the top of the horse's head, gently letting her fingers rub from his ears down between his eyes and back. "Parker wasn't giving you trouble now was he?" For reasons unknown Emma was one of the only people the aging horse seemed to be comfortable around. Others spooked the old horse into a frenzy when they tried to approach him.

"You're not going to give _me_ any trouble today are you Rocinante?" The mare gave a tiny huff as if trying to respond to Emma. She had long accepted the fact that she was crazy on some level to converse with an animal, but she had found the one-way exchange therapeutic. Parker took pity on her from time to time, going so far as to actually enjoy a conversation with the orphan, but it wasn't enough for Emma. She could trust that whatever she said to the horses to get off her chest couldn't be used against her in the future. People had a nasty habit of hurting her when she let her guard down.

Emma actually managed a tiny smile as Rocinante calmed down. "I didn't think so." She rewarded the horse by continuing to pet behind his ears. "That's a good boy." Emma lifted her hand off of Rocinante knowing that her work wasn't going to finish itself. Last thing she needed on her birthday was a disgruntled Parker breathing down her neck.

Day in and day out Emma tended to the unoccupied pens near Rocinante, clearing out the hay from the beginning of the week and pitching in fresh hay as though some younger stallions were going to fill in around the old mare. Rocinante did not play well with others and had long been able to have an area all to himself. Clearly the steed had some special place in the Kingdom in order to get such treatment. '_Rocinante has a better life than I do_,' she thought bitterly, pitching more hay over her shoulder. Emma couldn't be mad at an animal. She could however be mad at the people responsible for giving her such a shitty life. Both of her parents, if they were even still alive somewhere, had dumped this on her. Emma found herself mentally cursing the two of them on a daily basis when times got rough.

Sweat gathered on Emma's forehead as the morning hours passed on and she continued to work. Exhausted, Emma threw down her pitch, peeling off the gloves saving her hands from callusing up. She'd have to thank Parker for the small gesture when the day was out. Making way back to Rocinante's pen Emma hoped to catch a quick break before Parker made his rounds in the back area to check up on the progress. Unfortunately she wasn't as alone as she thought she would be.

A woman Emma had never come across before was comfortably situated near the finicky horse, whispering words Emma couldn't quite catch. Her brunette hair was pulled back, braided in a hairstyle suited more for someone Emma's age rather than what she assumed the woman really was. The stranger was dressed in neatly tailored riding gear, far more expansive than anything Emma had come across before in her life. Her deep red riding coat was trimmed to perfection, finished off with golden clasps and polished with care. The black leather pants and riding boots left little room for imagination as Emma dragged her eyes down the woman's form. "Who are you?" Emma demanded.

The brunette turned her attention away from Rocinante upon hearing Emma's voice. "I could ask you the same." This woman's voice was cold, devoid of even the negative emotion people typically had when they talked to Emma and her fixed glare had Emma paralyzed firmly where she stood. The woman stared directly at the teenager, dark eyes examining her as if she was on trial. A shiver ran down Emma's spine as the woman finally locked eyes with her own. Most people did there best to look past Emma as though she wasn't there, but this woman was staring right at her. Arching a brow, the woman finally spoke again. "I normally don't have the need to repeat myself. Do you not answer questions ask by your betters?"

On instinct Emma felt the need to defend herself. "You never technically _asked_ a question. I did-" Emma's confidence faltered as the older woman took a step closer towards her.

Something flashed in her eyes that made Emma wish she could fold in on herself. "What did you just say?" her voice harsh as she closed the distance between them. As regal as the woman had looked seconds ago, Emma's self preservation flared at the look of anger she had seen. Something more akin to fear held Emma in her spot.

"Emma!"

Both women whipped their heads towards Parker's distant voice. Broken from the trance the rider had over her, Emma took the chance to run, leaving the dangerous noblewoman with Rocinante. The more space she put between herself and the stranger, the more Emma silently thanked Parker for unknowingly saving her.

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**AN: So it has been many years since I have dabbled in writing fiction, but here I am again. Please excuse any grammatical mistakes. I write quickly and proof read myself as best as I can, so there will no doubt be some mistakes here or there by this novice writer. We're all human. I am new to the whole OUAT fandom and there is something about the SwanQueen dynamic that intrigues me to write once again. There is no particularly loyalty to any ship (real or fan based) for me, so you won't find any bashing here of any rival ships. I have the next few chapters (and a board idea of the overall story) planned out. Also I try not to write long babbling Author's Notes, but I felt the need to just sort of tack this on here at the end. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing/developing it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No beta: All mistakes are mine alone.**

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Running was normally thought to be a stress reliever; great for clearing one's mind and the burn addicting for those who needed to stay conditioned. Though for Emma it was always more of a desperate act of avoiding trouble. Like now she had trouble putting as much distance between her and the terrifying woman as humanly possible. Sprinting down the middle of the pens, Emma stumbled, adjusting her posture to avoid falling on the ground only to collide right into Parker's solid frame. Emma gripped onto his arms looking for some sense of balance.

"What's gotten into you girl?" he pushed the blonde away from him, eyeing her oddly.

"There was- in the stables-" Emma forced the words out as she tried to catch her breath. Normally she had a solid handling on things, but the beautiful woman had tugged the carpet right from under her. "There was someone in Rocinante's pen," she finally confessed.

Dragging Parker by the arm, she led him over to the scene of the crime. The only way to prove her point was to have Parker see the trespasser with his own two eyes. Amazingly enough there was no one else to be found when Emma pushed open the wooden door. Just a very unhappy horse huffing at the company of the Stable Master. Turning to face Parker Emma pleaded with the man. "I swear, she was right here," pointing towards the very spot the woman had been minutes ago. "She was here with Rocinante. And she was petting him-"

A rough hand grabbed the back of Emma's shirt, choking her words and effectively silencing her as Parker hauled the blonde out of the pen. "I thought you were well over the age of tale tales Emma." The look he gave her was disapproving, enough so that Emma felt guilty for a fleeting moment. There was no way she could have imagined having the unpleasant honor of meeting the frightening noble. "You're childhood stories were better than this." With a bit of a thrust he let go of his grip on her. "And I thought you were old enough for this."

Ruining the big reveal, Parker pulled out the item in question. Where the Stable Master was hiding a hunting bow all this time was lost on the teenager. Her eyes were glued to the simple looking weapon settled in Parker's hands. Even without the pomp and circumstance, the unadorned wood fascinated Emma. The light colored bow looked finely crafted by someone who clearly knew how to construct such a straightforward weapon. "Is that for me?" she asked.

"It's for your birthday," he shoved the bow into her hand. Seventeen years of existence and this was the first time she had ever received a gift in her life. Grumpy old Parker had brought on a rush of excitement Emma hadn't felt in years. Before she could even thank him Parker had both of his hands on her shoulders, adjusting her posture with the weapon. "Now let's get at least one lesson in you. I wouldn't want the horses in danger whenever you take aim." He positioned her and pointed out to one of the vertical posts to substitute as her target.

Emma remembered her favorite story had been about an archer, a noble thief who could hit a bulls-eye from fifty paces away, stealing form the wealthy and over privileged and giving his spoils away to those in poverty. She'd loved it so much that for one of her name days - before being trapped in the Dark Palace - she skulked around the taverns paying the bards with stolen coins to retell the story. As a kid, Emma was fascinated by the fictional archer's honorable intentions, and had dreamed of being just like him. And then she grew up to the terrible realization that she was nothing more than a bastard. Emma would have been one of the folks the hero would have dumped his spoils on, not one of his jolly travelling members. And even if this fabled hero existed he would find the Dark Palace too hard a place to steal from. His life would come to an end the moment he stepped foot on the grounds. Nothing got past the Evil Queen.

She was learning the hard way that archery wasn't an easy thing to master. No, it required a lot of patience. Patience was in short supply with the blonde teenager. "Many of the practiced combat styles of an archer are instantaneous or reactionary; archery is searching for the right moment to take the shot and making sure your eyes are sharp enough to hit your target," Parker instructed. Emma quirked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. _'How does he know that?'_ That's not what the story of the noble thief had taught her. She supposed the circumstances changed depending on how a person developed though. She's overheard the guards talking about how military soldiers used their archers en masse, just shooting into crowds of enemies. That didn't really need much accuracy or patience for that kind of fighting.

"Damn it!"

Scant inches above the makeshift bull's eye the arrow had struck, it's grey fletching vibrating with the force of impact. "A common bowman would have been satisfied with that result," Parker mused. "You can't expect to pick up a bow and be a master marksman Emma. I'm surprised you even got the arrow to launch." Emma was disgusted with her own clumsiness. Quickly, she pulled another shaft from the quiver, notched like how she had observed the guards do, drew it back and loosed…only to miss yet again. The simmering anger was not helping any in improving her aim. Neither was the presence of the silent Stable Master particularly encouraging. As bad luck would have it, the second attempt had strayed even further from her intended mark. Parker, leaning against the stable wall, was observing the pitiful efforts to hit the target.

Discomfiture and irritation stiffened Emma's shoulders, and her grip on her bow was uncharacteristically awkward. As the feathers brushed her ear, the third arrow set to the bowstring, Emma tried her best to clear her mind. Metal tattled against wood. Shocked, Emma watched the broken shaft fall to the ground. '_There was not a gust of wind indoors. How?' _Understanding dawned; a curse succinctly expressed the frustration. The horses were not on her side as they whinnied at the commotion. '_Wonderful. I could not have botched the shot more had I drunk myself blind.'_ **"**Is there a reason why you feel the need to breathe down my neck?" Venom lacing her words. Emma lowered her bow as she turned to Parker who seemed content on just watching her.

"Yes, it was my overbearing presence that was causing you to fail," he shot back. "Give it here." Snatching the gift out of Emma's own hands, Parker took stance next to her. Swiftly, so fast Emma barely had time to register, Parker sent an arrow barreling straight into the mark Emma had desperately tried to hit. As if adding further insult to her ego, the man repeated the action twice more, hitting the target without batting an eye.

Emma had to double take to make sure she had witnessed his marksmanship accurately. "How did you do that?" she demanded.

He gave Emma a knowing look. "That's a story for another birthday." Walking away from the girl, he waved her birthday gift in his hand. "It's best if you keep this here. You don't want any of the Queen's guards to find out about this and I don't want this coming back to me." Just when Parker was building up a glimmer of hope that he might actually care; leave it to a curmudgeon to ruin a potentially tender moment. What kind of birthday present was that if he wasn't going to even let her keep it? "That will be all for today Emma," he dismissed.

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A cold draft blew through the servants' chambers, causing the blonde teen to open her eyes. Once again, she had left the doors to the crowded room open after sneaking in after hours. The old kitchen maid always complained that they would have an intruder come through those doors one day but she paid the old woman no mind. Emma had trouble sleeping when the chambers were hot and stuffy. No one seemed to understand that. Even with the Dark Palace located by the river, temperatures still soared in the summer season. Emma liked the climate here well enough. It was the only place she could come close to calling a home, after all. She knew she could never survive long in the Southern Kingdom with their humid nights. All of these thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes traced the patterns on the low ceiling. It was early enough that she could at least enjoy herself before having to fuss over others. That was all a part of being a servant, and Emma had to accept it at this point. There were times when she wished she could be like the people in the South, able to ride horses and travel from place to place without someone saying they owned her life. But after all, those were only dreams right now; she always had to come back to reality sooner or later. Emma figured there wasn't time for dreaming of things that wouldn't happen in the near future. Maybe in a few years time she could properly escape the Dark Palace. What she needed right now was some fresh air from outside.

Pushing the cover off of her bed, Emma slipped past the sleeping workers with ease and was quick to get herself on the other side of the castle walls. A benefit from her old past time meant she was usually quiet enough on her feet to go unnoticed in the right circumstances. The overcast sky hung dismally above her, as Emma met the breeze coming off the water, while moving closer and closer to the small, rough waves that splashed against the shore. Whether her eyes were stinging from the mist that clung to the air or the joy that was still bubbling within her from yesterday's surprise, she wasn't sure and didn't want to think too much about it. Emotions were far too messy of an affair to get involved with. She turned around; skimming over the large riverbank, searching for any sign that she wasn't alone, but found nothing that indicated someone had followed her. And why would they? Emma couldn't shake the feeling that somebody had been following her last night leaving the stables. It was such a dull, gray day that it was still so close to sunrise. No one else would be awake enough to follow the blonde. Yet, a tiny part of her missed the company of the other servants, even if she hated talking to them. There was a part of her that was tired of feeling so alone for so long.

Emma sighed softly, shaking herself of those thoughts as she got up from her spot by the river and began her walk to the stables. The sun had just finished rising, leaving the sky a beautiful gold whenever it has a chance to break through the clouds. A small smile settled on the girl's face as she remembered the kindness of Parker's gift. If her obligations weren't so important, she'd be outside today, practicing with her new bow. Her smile grew as she turned away from the sunrise to go inside to get ready for the day. Maybe she could convince Parker for another lesson if she played her cards right.

"Hey, listen old man," Emma teased as she pushed open the stable doors. "You never gave me a chance to say thank you yesterday." There was no response from the fellow worker as the blonde made her way past the doorframe. Emma's eyes widened when she realized what was going on right in front of her. Parker was on his knees barely being held up by two guards holding him up from under his arms. His clothes were a mess, covered in straw as well as a few dark splotches of blood, presumable his own. The Stable Master lifted his head, revealing fresh bruising and a busted lip. That would explain the tiny splatters of blood on his jerkin. "Emma," Parker's faint voice tried to warn her. A firm hand grabbed the blonde with enough force to spin her body back around.

The hand that grabbed her belonged to a finely groomed man who had pretty eyes for a male, pretty, though much too surly for someone as handsome as he was. The man wore a leather tunic and roughspun wool breeches, yet summer was quickly approaching. Besides him a gray wolf with dark markings and red eyes waited faithfully at his heel. Emma recognized the sullen looking man and his companion from stories swapped along the countryside. The Evil Queen's Huntsman. A personal lackey with unwavering loyalty to the crown who had a reputation for tying up loose ends for the Queen. Even as groomed as he was Emma could see how uncomfortable he looked in his current surroundings.

"It's best if you come quietly Miss Swan," The Huntsman's statement more of a plea than a command. Instead of complying, Emma's knee came up right between his legs, paralyzing the Huntsman just enough to make an escape. Growling caused the teen to look back at the wolf ready to pursue. Distracted by the beast, Emma tripped, cursing as she fell hard onto the ground. Trying to inch herself away from the Huntsman's wolf, Emma let out a grunt when she felt something heavy press into her back.

"_Quietly_, Miss Swan."

The Huntsman's plucked her off of the ground with ease. This time he was careful to bring her hands behind her back, effectively binding them together with rope. "What do you want with us?" Emma asked as she struggled to make the Huntsman's job of escorting her wherever it was a difficult task. In his current state Parker was all but dragged out by the two guards.

"Not me," he replied. "Her Majesty."

Dread flooded Emma's features. The Evil Queen? What would a Queen want with an old man and a bastard? She paid no attention to where they were taking her and Parker, even as they pushed the two along the Palace halls Emma had never stepped foot in before. Current memories rushed to mind as she tried to think of anything out of routine from the past few days. Only the woman in the stables set off her alarm. Great, Emma had probably offended someone close to the Queen; her distant cousin, friend, or something or other. It was well known throughout the Kingdom the Queen had no direct family. She was unmarried and her parents long gone according to rumors. Who knew, it wasn't Emma's job to keep personal track of the Evil Queen's affairs, but whomever she had met yesterday had gone off and run her mouth. Now Parker was getting brought in on all of this because Emma couldn't stop herself from talking back to a Noble woman.

Emma gave up struggling once The Huntsman's wolf feel in step with the small group. Something about the beast was unsettling. Wolves were not known to be domesticated in any sense, and yet it seemed to be in tune with The Huntman's every move. The further the guards took them within the labyrinth of halls, the darker the ambiance seemed to get. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, reflecting the pathetic forms of Emma and Parker's defeat. The Huntsman pulled back on Emma's bound hands signaling her to halt. The common guards continued to scurry ahead, dragging Parker through the entryway, and Emma's eyes followed as best as she could as he disappeared behind the large double doors.

"Where are they taking him?" she finally managed to ask.

"He's going to stand trail with the Queen," The Huntsman said quietly. Emma was alone with The Huntsman now, waiting for whatever unspeakable form of persecution the Evil Queen had in store for Parker and herself.

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**AN: Whoa, thanks for the early love guys. I'm learning that SwanQueen is a powerful force to be reckoned with. I usually don't update back to back, but the second chapter was already typed out, so I decided just to go for it. Fun Fact: The title for this fanfic comes from the first track of Ellie Goulding's album _Halycon. _The whole album is my muse for writing so I figured I should pay tribute in some aspect. Enjoy, and thanks readers/reviewers.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, re-uploaded because there were too many mistakes for me to let slide.**

**Disclaimer: Forgot this bad boy on the first two chapters, but clearly I don't own any OUAT characters and such. I just like to take their characters and rearrange them a bit. All no Beta, all mistakes are mine.**

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Though Emma had been in many a tight spots before in her life, she had to admit that she had never been struck with as much fear as she had been waiting outside doors Parker disappeared behind. Behind those double doors was the Queen of the Northern Kingdom waiting for Emma. It had never occurred to her that such a fate was possible. Never mind the gossip she had heard about the Queen, the vulgar bashing of words and torture for which the entire Kingdom knew she was capable of inflicting. As if a wicked ruler was unfair enough for the Northern Kingdom, the Queen was well practiced in some dark arts. Very few souls in any Kingdom were practiced in such a skill other than fairy folk.

The Evil Queen was ruler of the Northern Kingdom for good reason; she had vanquished all those who went against her with her magic.

Hope was a fleeting cause, one she had wisely left to chance, as time with the Huntsman and his wolf went by. The only thing she could do to distract herself was try and pick a conversation with her silent captor. "So, Huntsman, seems like quite the job you have here. Stealing fair maidens to present to the Queen," she playfully jested.

He shifted uncomfortably at her casual nature. Even Emma was surprised with how naturally she could fall back on sarcasm when things got too serious. "I didn't ask for this," he finally admitted.

"No, a guy like you, not into the whole slave role?"

"You're hardly a _fair maiden,_" he shot back.

The grin widened on Emma's face. That's what she wanted to egg out of him; a little emotion. His rigid posture and blank expression were unnatural. Emma wanted to change that if she was going to be stuck out here with him for who knows how long. "Because I'm a bastard right? Better a bastard than a lap dog."

The Huntsman finally looked at Emma before arguing, "I already told you I didn't ask for this."

"So you don't deny that you are just her lap dog?" She stared down the Huntsman with a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Did you get down on your knees and pledge loyalty to her? I bet you did. I bet you said anything you could begging for mercy-"

Wooden doors burst open, signaling the two to enter devoid of any spoken command. The wolf circled around the edge of the doorframe yet never crossed over to wherever the doors opened up to. Only the Huntsman and Emma entered the room. There was no sign of Parker and the other guards having ever been here as far as Emma could tell. Just as that woman vanished in the stables, Parker had disappeared.

The room was grand and decorated meticulously. As there had been in the halls, mirrors covered any open wall space. Books of all sizes were neatly crammed into bookshelves, a large desk pushed to the side covered in parchment, and an expensive vanity table were surprising elements to the room. Emma half expected torture devices to fill the area. As the Queen's seat was set closer to the fireplace than the lowly stool the withering looking Valet occupied, the display of power was focused on the large plush armchair. This was no throne room. Emma found herself at the Queen's mercy in her own private drawing room. The royal bedchambers presumably tucked away behind doors near the west side of the room.

The good fortune in it was all the confusion and grandeur of the room; Emma had successfully managed to avoid locking eyes with the Evil Queen. When Emma finally had the nerve to look up from the floor, she caught her first true glimpse of the Queen. Recognition must have been obvious on the teen's face as the Queen merely smiled at Emma. The strange rider from the stables was none other than the woman before her. Though today the Queen fit the title. Just as the room, she too was swathed in dark colors- though more black than any other color. Fitting enough, Emma couldn't see many other colors suited her looks. Her clothes the day before had been modest in comparison to the gown she wore today. Her dark brown hair was set high on the crown of her head, failing down the side of her face and gathered past her collarbone. Her face was done up much more than yesterday, dark smoky detailing around her eyes and her lips painted like blood. The Evil Queen dressed appropriately for her role.

The Queen's fingers busied themselves along the hem of her sleeve, clearly taking her own time before feigning notice of the blonde teenager standing before her. Her lips curled into a grin so wicked Emma felt fear course through her very veins. "So you don't answer questions _or_ kneel before your Queen." It was easy enough to tell that the Queen was mocking Emma rather than questioning her abilities. Brown eyes regarded her thoughtfully, watching her every breath. Her intent gaze made Emma feel uneasy, even vulnerable. As if her eyes could penetrate her inner mind's defenses and see right through her. All of Emma's big talk seemed to have been left out in the hall. It was unnerving but Emma tried to compose herself. She knew it was all a matter of appearance. The first impression was what counted the most.

As Emma made no move to comply with the Queen's suggestion, a quick kick to the back of her knees provided by The Huntsman did the trick. Cold marble connected with Emma's knees delivering a shot of pain to run up her legs. "That wasn't too difficult now was it?" The small voice in her head told Emma to remain quiet as the Queen had her go. With bated breath the blonde waited for the Queen to say anything. Brown eyes trailed down Emma's subservient form. "What's your name child?"

Emma ignored the comment aimed at her age and pressed forward with her own question. "Where is Parker?"

"Parker? You mean the Stable Master." For a second the Queen actually looked puzzled, until she replaced the look with another twisted grin. "You don't really want to know where he is do you. You want to know if he is still _alive_, correct?" She stared at the blonde, nodding her head just to gloat over the fact that her assumption was accurate. "The Stable Master is alive, in a sense."

Her words were laced in secret, dangling the truth just far enough out of Emma's reached. She was somewhat relieved to hear of the cryptic news. Emma wouldn't know what to do with herself if Parker had been hurt because of her mistake. Whatever the mistake was still hadn't been declared. "What is your name?" the Evil Queen demanded once more. It was the second time in two days Emma had caused the woman to repeat herself.

"Emma," the blonde answered.

"Just Emma dear? No one is born with just _one_ name. What is your family name?"

"Emma _Swan_." Emma's proud attitude towards the Huntsman was no longer in sight. Hardly the family name the Queen was looking for. Swan was better off being compared to a cattle branding.

A chuckle broke past the Queen's lips. "Swan. How fitting for you dear." She held out her hand towards the Valet, clutching the ornate wine cup he passed to her without even having to look. Emma was confused as to why she was allowed here in the Queen's parlor and not put to stand trial in front of her council. Her confusion must have been easily readable as the woman decided to answer her unasked question. "There is no need for some amusingly scandalous story whispered in my court about my questioning a bastard." The Queen leaned forward just a bit from the back of her chair as though she were letting Emma in on some secret. "You're not worth their time."

Emma struggled to lift her own gaze up, determined to meet the Queen's eyes. "But I'm worth yours?" The Valet pouring the Queen's wine nearly spilt due to the shock of Emma's retort. The same look Emma saw down in the stables was back, causing her to flinch before any damage was even done. Pressure seemed to build up from nowhere; causing Emma's breath to shorten and her sight began to fade to white. The pain came unannounced and grew from within her own body. She hoped that was not the case, and suddenly felt guilt pang in her gut that Parker was nowhere in sight. Is this what the Queen had done to him as well? Nothing had prepared her for this kind of pain. And just as quickly as it had come, the hold over her vanished. Gasping for air Emma almost doubled over in relief, but the Huntsman forced her upper body to stay straight with just one hand.

"What were you doing near Rocinante?" the Queen asked bluntly.

"You brought me here because of a horse?" Emma shot back, still too drained from her last act of defiance to think clearly. She felt the hand on her shoulder firm up.

"Answer Her Majesty's question," The Huntsman said.

So the stories of The Huntsman's loyalty were true. Emma swallowed back the pain and tried to scrounge up any bravado she could muster. "I'm a Stable Hand. I was just doing my job."

The Queen took a long pull from her cup before handing off to her Valet. "Perhaps I should rephrase it Bastard. How were you _near_ Rocinante?"

Anger flared at how the Queen talked down to her. Spitting down towards the Evil Queen's feet, Emma called out against her. "I walked towards him, what do you think?" The Huntsman grabbed a fist full of blonde hair and pulled back the teenager. His blade came next and was drawn up to the skin of her throat. Surprisingly, the Queen wasn't as fazed by Emma's act as she would have thought. She calmly stood from her seat and crossed the distance of the room.

"Let her go Huntsman," she commanded. The brunette woman stared down Emma, smirking all the while. Up close Emma wasn't sure how to react. For an aging old woman Emma couldn't really see any signs of falling apart. In fact the Queen didn't look a day over thirty. Everyone down in the servant's quarter had told her the Queen had been in the Dark Palace for ages. Dark twisted magic must have been keeping the Queen in such a state. The thought of such power in the wrong hands sent a chill through Emma's bones. The Queen _was_ attractive no doubt, until she opened her mouth. Smug, vicious, and wicked were words that came to Emma's mind. As if to prove it the Queen ridiculed the blonde further. "She can't do anything to me."

The Queen reached forward to latch onto the blonde's face. Emma let out a gasp from the contact of the Queen's hand, only to be silenced by a heated look. Her hand was cold at first, just like everything else in the room. Sharp nails began to dig into Emma's skin as the Evil Queen turned the girl's head to the side to examine her. No doubt the tiny markings from her nails would be visible even after she left the room. If she left the room alive. Emma watched as the Queen's eyes narrowed in on her, her thumb coming up to press against her cheek. She flinched at the jolt that radiating from the Queen's hold.

"Anger can make people do terrible things dear," she whispered threateningly, their faces mere inches apart when her fingers reached down and rested under her chin, "the question Bastard," she looked over her face and her eyes lingered on her lips before they met her eyes. She smirked for Emma was rendered speechless, "is do you want to test my patience?" She taunted darkly, whispering through a heavy breath. Her teeth parted in a daring grin as Emma tried to swallow back her trepidation.

More pain coursed through her body. It felt like black tendrils sending fire through her whole system. The pain was accompanied by a sudden shock wave. Like lightning piercing through her sensitive flesh. Tongues of acid hungrily licking her nerves that spasm her body into convulsion. The agony was so overwhelming that she couldn't even think clearly. Her world became white. All she saw was a cloud of white flying before her eyes. The glittering spectrum of pain turned into pure blazing agony as she felt the curse intensifying. She could only wince, soft moans escaping her lips.

Then from one second to another the pain was gone.

There was no man or woman alive who could predict the subtle swing of the Evil Queen's moods Emma concluded. Having the Evil Queen standing over her brought to light feelings Emma had never experienced before. Oddly enough she felt the need to say something, anything to have her stop staring at her. To stop her from unleashing her power once more. Had she not been so terrified for her life she might actually admit that there was something pleasing about having the Queen hover above her. This was nothing like the staring games she played with the young boy Richard back in her quarters. The longer she locked eyes with the Queen the greater the urge was to appease her in some form. "I have always tended to him," she muttered. "No one else can get near him without him acting up."

"Not even the Stable Master?" The Queen never once blinked when she told her lie. The Queen knew Parker could never calm Rocinante. Emma was somewhat of an expert at seeing past lies and half-truths convincingly. Something she had always assumed she picked up from her years of pick pocketing. The Evil Queen was good though, it almost sounded genuine to Emma's own ears.

"Parker's never been able to handle him. That's the only reason he let me on as a Stable Hand," She explained, feeling her uneasiness again. It was even worse; now that she was so close to her presence. She couldn't deny that there was a malicious and sinister aura around the Queen. It just didn't feel right.

They stood in silence for what seemed like forever, the Queen silently daring her to do something. What would she do if Emma had the chance to act? Her dark gaze pinned her down and with arms tied behind her back there was little Emma could do. The fire's red flames dancing in the Queen's eyes. She directed the wicked look down on Emma, making her feel weak and small. Disappointment overcame the Queen's face when Emma did nothing to retaliate. Emma could barely lift her head from the Queen's assault, but a nagging voice in the back of her head denied her from ever begging for mercy. The Evil Queen's hand finally let go as she turned away from Emma. "Show the Bastard out," she said without looking back.

* * *

The Huntsman wasted no time dragging her limb body away from the Queen's parlor. Almost carefully he offered her his hands and helped her get up from the floor once the doors were shut. Her body felt very tired and she was surprised herself that she somehow managed to stand on her shaky legs. The Wolf made no sound as it followed the two down the corridors.

"Is this the time where you kill me?" Emma asked him miserably and went on. "I've heard the ground level of the castle holds a prison and torture chamber. Is that where you're taking me now?"

"If the Queen wanted you dead, you wouldn't have left that room alive Miss Swan," the Huntsman pointed out.

"Hmm," she drawled out. Emma was having a hard time keeping her eyes open let along speaking. Her meeting with the Evil Queen had taken quite the toll on her. Emma's body felt heavy and tired. Now that she was away from that vile woman she found her confidence slowly trickling back into her system, even if she was struggling to stay awake. "That's very reassuring." When she lifted her hands to push back her disheveled hair, she felt resistance as if moving through thick liquid. Goose bumps crawled across her flesh, but she ignored the sudden chill. Emma felt it when she lost her footing and connected with the hard ground. Her world went black just as she heard the Huntsman called out her name.

* * *

"What's troubling you Your Majesty?" the Valet asked. The Queen had refused to say anything since the departure of the Huntsman and the Bastard. Settling in at her vanity the Queen had appeared to be staring at herself, though truly lost in her own musings about the Stable Hand. Something about the blonde had put the woman in a foul mood. "You've been rather quiet."

She turned in her seat to look up at her Valet. Time was not agreeing with him, and as much as she protested, he did not agree with using magic to slow down his natural age progression. Henry had little hair left on his head -all of it white and frayed at this point- and the wrinkles were threatening to alter his appearance past the point of recognition. "She looks familiar."

"Impossible," a new voice called out. The large vanity mirror in front of the Evil Queen rippled, revealing a shallow face. "You've never seen that child before in your life."

"Eavesdropping as usual Genie."

"I apologize Your Majesty. Old habits die hard," his tone hardly apologetic. "You never seem to complain when I'm spying on others."

Henry looked at the face in the mirror with displeasure. "I know you better than that Your Majesty, what is really bothering you."

"She shouldn't have been able to get near Rocinante," she admitted. Unlike her father, the Queen was going to hold onto her childhood steed for as long as she could no matter what the means. Magic had taken the horse's sight and magic certainly caused the distrust from other's company. It was the price of magic for Regina and the horse. She hadn't been able to visit the horse for many years, and with her absence she had assumed the lack of magic would have taken a told on Rocinante. But as the years past and the horse continued to survive. The Queen had thought nothing of it at the time. "He won't even let you near him Daddy."

"A horse is cause for concern?" her father echoed the same thoughts from the Stable Hand.

"You went rather easy on her Your Highness," She silently stared at the Genie, her servant staring from the other side of the mirror. His eyes scanned the woman, a smirk on his face as he watched a black shadow slowly overcoming the woman's face, "She sure was persistent, wasn't she? Always coming back like flies."

She shook her head and gave him a disapproving look, "Only at first, but soon enough she'll learn her place."

Henry took a step closer towards his daughter, his hand extended out to ease her, but he thought better of it catching the look in her eyes. "Regina, what good will it do getting involved in her life?" He asked with great solicitude, bending down to look at her. "You said it yourself, she's not worth anyone's time."

"The girl only lives because I'm curious," Regina countered, slightly annoyed to be challenged by the Valet. "And when I have my answers she'll be disposed of," There was something about the blonde that bothered Regina. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on just yet, but she wasn't going to let it slip by from right underneath her nose. She had her theories on what was bubbling behind those green eyes. "Until then she'll have her uses."

"You've always had a way of getting what you wanted," the Mirror said.

The Queen couldn't agree more. Manipulation and cunning were her specialty. Simple words were far more effective than any spell she could think of. The young woman was often surprised herself that she didn't have to rely on magic than other witches. Her unrivaled beauty, her wit and charm were all that she needed. She didn't need a curse to get rid of her enemies. Sometimes sweet words and poisoned wine were enough to silence them for good.

* * *

**AN: Took a page from Ernest Hemingway's book and wrote this after a glass or two of wine. Thanks for reading this little tale.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own no claim to OUAT. No Beta, all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

_Darkness... without earth or sky. The darkness engulfed her. It was deeper than the depths of night. Yet far off in that blackness there was a reddish glare. A pair of crimson eyes. Her eyes. Even at this distance, she could see the eyes watching her in silent anticipation as a huge green serpent slowly emerged from the shadows._

_It coiled upwards, spiraled around her legs, moving closer and closer. And all Emma could do was stare. Why couldn't she move? Save herself and run away? This snake would surely kill her. It would bite her with its poisoned fangs. Eat her alive. But she just stood there frozen in place, paralyzed._

_There was nowhere to run. No way to fight._

_The fear roiling inside her felt as if it might burst through her skin. Only then did she realize she was alone. She gasped in horror as the snake bit into her soft flesh, drops of warm red blood running down her legs. The more she struggled, the more the snake twisted around her body, tightening her hold. She heard her heartbeat surge in her ears. With every passing second, it became harder and harder to breathe. It felt like all her blood in her body was flowing backward. She was dizzy and sick with the knowledge that she was about to die. Emma wanted to scream but no sound escaped her lips._

Out of nowhere a hand appeared, shaking her by the shoulder. "Emma, Emma!"

Emma shot up in bed, cold sweat beaded at her temples and stung her eyes. She blinked a few times, still afraid that the hand might be a part of her nightmare but it was just Richard standing beside her bed with a worried expression on his face, big blue eyes staring down at her. "Hi Emma."

"Richard?" Emma took in her surroundings, noticing that she was in her own bed. Her head felt as though the mason had dropped a stone on her. After leaving the Queen parlor Emma's memories were a little hazy. The Huntsman had all but dragged her out of the room, and the rest of her day was a blank. "What's going on?"

"You were tossing and turning in your bed, and then you started screaming. Did you have a bad dream? Momma always wakes me up when I have a nightmare. What were you dreaming about?"

Her question had been more of a rhetorical one, but Richard continued to smile at Emma, most likely thinking he was being helpful in some capacity. "I don't remember," she lied. It was only a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. It had no meaning, she told herself despite the feeling of mental and physical exhaustion. As if this nightmare had somehow drained all her energy. She gathered up her bed sheet and tossed it to the side. Well, she was at least dressed for the day, boots and all. As she swung her legs off Emma felt her muscles ache. The pain was still a little raw for her body. "Richard, do you remember when I got back?" Since the boy seemed keen on talking to the teenager, she could at least try and piece together some of the blank spots from her pervious day.

"You were already sleeping when you came back," he answered. "You were sleeping and someone carried you in asking where your bed was." That would explain why her boots were still on when she woke up. "I was the one who told him," Richard said proudly. "And he had a doggy Emma! But Momma wouldn't let me play with him. She said he was a mean doggy."

That was all she needed to hear to fill her in on what was missing from her day yesterday. How could she have slept the rest of the day away as well as a full night? All the adults had let her sleep through the beginning of the day and there was still much to do. Most importantly, Emma needed to find Parker. The blonde left the room with an arm wrapped around her slender body to help ease the remaining pain and was greeted by a man she had least expected to meet here. Emma hadn't bothered to stop walking. If the Huntsman was willing to wait for her to wake up he would follow her to the stables. "What are you doing here?"

"The Stable Master will not be back today Miss Swan," he shrugged, showing her a sad smile "I'm here to escort you to the stables."

Emma shot him a skeptical glare. "Because you enjoy my company so much?"

The Huntsman's soft features changed to a solemn expression, his voice thin and sharp now. "Her Majesty has instructed me to do so. I am to escort you to the Stables in the morning and stand guard until the end of your day Miss Swan."

"You mean baby-sit me," Emma corrected. No one was going to go after a lowly Stable Hand, a bastard no less, unless the Queen herself gave the command. In other words he was just spying on her under the orders of the Evil Queen, watching and reporting to her. Now all Emma had to do is find out what the Huntsman was trying to find out about her. A feat that seemed almost impracticable with how stoic he was.

She tried to push her feelings to the back of her mind and found distraction with her work. If the Huntsman was looking for something to report back to the Queen, Emma had planned on giving him a rather dull day to report. Without Parker here to assist Emma was forced to take up his responsibilities as well. The girl struggled with some of the heavy labor the older usually undertook, and with the pain still fresh in her system, Emma was slow to complete tasks. All the while The Hunstman and his Wolf watched on in silence.

After a long day of harrowing work, all Emma wanted to do was sleep again. "Hey buddy," Emma took her time getting back to the Huntsman by taking a quick stop at Rocinante's pen. Reaching for a grooming brush, Emma began to sweep at his neck. "You didn't tell me your owner was kind of a bitch." And by kind of, she really meant a complete heartless bitch. Brushing the mare was a relaxing action despite the fact he was connected to that horrible woman. "What did you do to her? Knock her off one too many times?" she joked. He began to buck his head towards Emma. "What's wrong?"

The Huntsman had crept up in the two. His wolf's hair was on end near the Evil Queen's horse and the two animals put on a great show of trying to intimidate each other. Emma wasn't sure she was going to like what the man had to say to her.

"The Queen requests your company."

* * *

The air was sizzling with tension as they sat facing each other. Emma wore a confident smirk on her features while The Queen gazed at her with an annoyed expression on her face. It was the look she would give a distracting insect, just before she decided to crush it beneath her feet. Emma couldn't deny that this witch had a powerful presence. The Evil Queen was a maelstrom of power, her dark magic saturating her, patiently waiting to be unleashed upon her enemies. And she was fairly certain that she fell into that category.

The Queen shifted gears, giving Emma a contemptuous smirk. "If you don't want to get butchered I'd advise you wipe that grin off your face. I doubt my Valet would relish the sight of your dirty blood staining my clean floor." For a moment the Evil Queen's brown eyes beamed at her, just as she had done the day before. Silently petitioning the Stable Hand to actually fight back. Emma's face feel at the threat, causing the Queen's grin to widen in victory.

"How was Rocinante today?"

"Fine," she clenched her jaw trying to fight back her true emotions. Emma wanted to jump across the table and strangle the Queen where she sat. "How was Parker today?"

"Would you like to know where the guards have taken him?" the Queen teased. "They had left him in a dark, foul-smelling cellar. There are no windows there, no lights from the outside world. The thick metal doors are barred and there are no means of escape." The Queen took a sick delight in telling Emma just how miserable Parker's life was about to become. The younger woman wasn't as poised as she was when she first took a seat across from the Queen. "Days will go by and nothing will happen. Your Stable Master is alone in his cell, separated from the other prisoners. His only company will be my guards and when he asks about you Bastard, they will not respond, ignoring him completely as if he doesn't exist. And when he can no longer fight against his own isolation, I will end his wretched life with my own hands."

"Why?" Emma asked.

"Why? Because I can child," The Queen sunk back into her chair and took comfort in breaking the girl's walls open just enough to tear her down. "Because he was defiant and no act against me goes unpunished."

"He didn't do anything," she argued, standing up from her own seat. Emma was too worked up to stay still. Pressing forward, Emma brought her arms up against the Queen's desk and leaned forward. "I was the one near Rocinante, not him."

"That is not his only crime," she countered.

"Then… take my life instead," it was the first time she had let the hopelessness slip out in front of the Queen. Men like Parker shouldn't have to die in such a fashion. Yes, he was crude, a bit rough around the edge, but under all that he still had heart left in him. But Emma, she was just a bastard and she was expendable in everyone else's eyes. So what better way of spending her life than in exchange for one that matters? "Put me in the dungeons and kill me instead."

"You would trade your life for his?" Emma merely nodded, her conviction shining through her firm stance. The Evil Queen's actions resembled a wraith, a creature of a nightmare, the one that could scare the poor little children in their beds. A smile appeared on her features as she trapped the girl standing just a few feet away from her. The Queen took a great delight when she easily found the girl's weak spot. How she enjoyed it when she saw the bastard giving her a defeated look. She wished to see more anguish. As long as she held this man captive, this bastard would comply with anything the Queen demanded. The Queen finally stood from her chair.

"Come forward, Bastard."

The Stable Hand felt a chill and recognized what she felt as the chill of anticipation. The Queen arched her sharp brow and waited for her. Emma carried her head high as she moved around the side of the desk. When she reached the Queen, she awkwardly sank to one knee, inclining her head ever so slightly in deference to the Evil Queen.

"You have more use to me alive." Emma flashed the Queen a confused look at her words. How could she prove to be of any use to the Evil Queen? The older woman made no move to explain herself as she took a step closer towards Emma. It cost her quite an effort to submit to her in this way. She didn't look up but she knew that she was probably smiling triumphantly as she purred, "Good, my dear. But this is not enough."

Emma's head shot up, "Would you have me kiss the ground you walk on, _Your Majesty_?" The internal fire from yesterday was back, seared her skin in retaliation for her defiance. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she felt her magic burning into her skin like fire, the air pulsing and sizzling around her with the Evil's Queen dark energy. Her screams of agony echoed in her own ears, the sound hurting her like physical pain.

"It would be a start," the Queen said, smiling in cruel satisfaction. Emma's screams were one of her first small victories and it wouldn't be the last.

She grimaced, taking the hem of her dress in her hands and kissing it. Oh, how she hated this and she hated the Evil Queen. She was glad that the she couldn't see her face now, contorted by her anger.

The Evil Queen lifted her chin with her hand, her gaze studying her thoughtfully. "I was certain you would try harder to resist me today, Bastard. As much as your submission pleases me I'm still curious, what has changed your mind?"

Feelings of guilt and failure overcame her, like a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. It was all her fault; she was the one to blame when Parker had to suffer. Why couldn't she be stronger? She hated herself, knowing that she could have prevented this torment. If it hadn't been for Parker, she would have never known what it was like to be treated like an actual human being, not some throw away abomination.

"Parker," she replied honestly.

The Queen's gentle, almost affectionate touch was unnerving. Like a predator giving her prey false comfort before devouring it. This wasn't right. And to make it worse, she leaned in to her touch, seeking some form of closeness, needing someone, anyone to be with her. She hated the Queen but the one she hated the most was herself.

"Hush, now Bastard. You know he deserved it, don't you? I shall keep him alive for your sake. Do as I say and he shall not be harmed."

"Is this a promise?" she asked, hope filling her thin voice.

"It is not a promise, my dear. Only a warning. It all depends on you. If you do something that displeases me, he shall die. And you shall die along with him. Do you understand this, Bastard?" she stared at her, the color of her eyes changing to a darker, more sinister hue.

Oh yes, she understood it all too well. It was a threat. If she would act against her wishes the Evil Queen would kill Parker. And she wouldn't hesitate to kill her too. Now she was really stuck between a rock and a hard place. Emma could never risk her only friend's life. If he died she was as good as dead too. Parker didn't deserve to suffer because of her. If it was in her hands to ensure his safety, she would do anything.

"If I promise you this, will you give him back his freedom?" she asked dryly.

She was still trying to save Parker. But The Queen wouldn't fulfill her wish. "I may be a merciful Queen but Parker shall remain in his cell and I shall not change my mind."

Merciful, right, the Evil Queen would sooner burn alive than anyone deeming her compassionate. "Why?" She asked her, a bitter tone in her voice as she had crushed her hopes.

"Because he has wronged me long ago. And I shall not forget that." The Evil Queen said, emphasizing each word so that she would finally understand her reasoning. The Queen paused and studied her new possession, again as if she was waiting for something to stop her.

Oddly, Emma didn't show very much reaction at all. She leaned back against her knees and stared at her, contemplating what to say next. Then, after a minute of silence she slowly nodded. "I shall not question Her Majesty's judgment," Emma conceded.

The Queen's soft fingers began to caress her cheek now, as she announced. "Then you will become my loyal servant. You will pledge your loyalty to me and swear to serve me, to obey me, to lay down your life for me if I should wish for it." Emma's delay seemed to enrage the woman. "Swear it!"

Emma knew there was no turning back now and nodded. "I pledge my loyalty to you, and only you, Your Majesty." Just saying these words left a bitter taste in her mouth. It felt almost like admitting defeat. Her only comfort was that one day, she would pay her back. Emma would never forget this.

She carefully guarded her thoughts as she saw her dark eyes glowing in the dim light, an expression of greed on her wicked face. "Hold out your hand, my dear."

She did as she was told. The Queen's own hand held Emma's wrist firmly, her other hand pushing against the top of her right hand. "This might hurt..." The tip of her fingers pressed against the sensitive flesh of her hand. Emma had to fight the sudden instinct to move her arm away, trying to stay as calm as possible. The burn was almost too much to take, but Emma bit her lip as she took the pain. If this was the price she had to pay to save Parker, she would gladly take it tenfold. Her eyes began to tear as she smelt her own flesh being burnt.

And then it was done. Her eyes stared down at the mark on her arm. The Queen's insignia freshly branded into her flesh looked out of place on her pale flesh. It was an awkward sensation on her skin. Warm and tickling, the burning pain slowly subsiding. The Evil Queen leaned down, whispering in her ear. "You're mine now, Bastard. Are you not?"

"I am, Your Majesty," she assured her.

Emma instantly shivered, as she felt the cold skin of her cheek lightly touching her own. "I hope you have enjoyed my dream last night. I've conjured a special one, just for you."

* * *

**AN: The inspiration is flowing so I'll just keep writing/posting as it goes. Did things escalate too quickly with Emma and The Queen? Let me know. There are some very big plots points that will spread through the next few chapters, that needed Emma to have more interaction with Regina, hence the maybe too sudden pledge of sub-servitude. ****Just to clarify, Emma is in no way, shape or form down with it, but choices had to be made. Ya dig it?**

**Preview: Emma and The Huntsman interaction, as well as a look into Regina's motives.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any contents dealing with OUAT. No Beta, all mistakes are my own. POV's Order for the chapter: Regina, Emma, Regina**

* * *

The night sky was black, gray ominous clouds were shrouding the moon. The only sound one could hear was the loud rumbling of the river beneath the castle, wave after wave crashing against the bank. A lone figure walked along a cobble stone path outside. Regina had sent a message to meet her father in the gardens. It was an unusual place for a meeting late at night but she thought it was a well-chosen location. This small area was abandoned since no one had been given leave to visit since the Queen had taken power. No mirrors and no spies would trouble them there.

The air was chilly and smelled of fresh fruit. Shivering, she pulled her black cloak tighter around her body. The royal woman let out a soft sigh. It had been a long day. After the incident with the bastard Stable Hand, she didn't have enough time to attend to her father earlier. Swan had been shocked and terrified by the Regina's threat to kill Parker, showing the uneducated girl's lack of understanding of the whole situation.

Parker held no interest to the Queen, past, present, or future. Once she had seen the sort of control it had over the blonde Regina had decided to use it to her advantage. Coming up with the lie was second nature for her and she almost believed what she had told the younger girl. And the bluff had paid off. Like many other royalties before her, Regina had learned at an early age that everyone else was inferior to her. That everyone who didn't belong to her family was a threat, an enemy. She had to admit to herself that her behavior was partly her mother's fault. Her teachings had made Regina become arrogant and twisted. Regina had also adopted her mother's pride and cruelty. They all had their fair share in her education and it was difficult to curb her now.

For two long hours she had tried to reason with her father, yet without success. The man remained stubborn and offended, still believing she had no right to punish the Stable Hand. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Regina couldn't have orchestrated a better submission from the blonde. It was a natural reaction. You either destroy the object of your fear or you submit to it. Her new captive obviously leaned towards the second option and it would take a long time to make her understand how utterly foolish it was to take on the Evil Queen. But Regina knew she had only broken past the surface of that girl's resistance.

At least Regina was relieved the Genie was always at her side, watching over her enemies actions and dutifully reporting back to her. This time she had given the trapped Genie clear instructions, making sure the bastard stayed as far away from the dungeons as possible, to prevent her from lurching from one folly to the next one. Heaven forbid the girl found out Parker was not where Regina had said he was. She didn't want to think about that possibility of her plan unraveling.

The leaves rustled beneath her shoes as she moved through the groves to get to her prized apple tree. As the brunette woman arrived at her destination, she reached out with her hand, touching the pale trunk of the gnarled, old apple tree with her fingertips. A hanging leaf brushed against her cheek and she couldn't take her eyes away from the red gems dangling from its branches.

"I should have known to find you here of all places," A quiet voice said behind her.

Surprised, Regina turned around and found her father standing in front of her. He was wrapped in a thick fur coat, keeping him warm. Though it was the end of summer her father's health had taken a toll for the worst and a constant chill ailed him. Henry wore a solemn expression on his face. His hair was once dark brown and his eyes were as gray as his hair now. His trimmed beard was beginning to thin and he seemed older than his eighty-four years.

Regina smiled weakly. "I didn't think you would show after our last argument."

"Forgive an old man for taking his time," her father replied. "What is it your wish to tell me now daughter? Surely this has to do with that defenseless young girl you seem so content on crushing. Tell me, is this a flight of fancy, or are you so bored with the usually court life you seek enjoyment from stranger's pain now?"

Regina had no other option but to include her father in on her plan. Or at least enough for him to not look at her with such disappointment. "She has magic in her."

"A girl of her stature? You could think of a better lie to tell me. I'm almost insulted you thought that would work. Do you take me for a fool in my old age Regina?"

"I don't want to believe it either Daddy. " The Queen said, sensing his disbelief and went on. "Rocinante is one borrowed time as it is and yet he is still living. That girl is the only one to have come into contact with him these past few years. I have felt her magic myself. Buried so deep within her she has never noticed that untrained power building up. There is no other explanation."

"And you believe she is a threat," he spoke the words Regina refused to acknowledge. There was still some doubt in the old man's features. Magic was not something his daughter would take lightly, but it had been years since Henry had heard of anyone else showing such talents. He knew his daughter well enough to know that she wouldn't let this go further unattended. "What do you plan on doing to the poor girl?"

She would break her down and drive the girl submissive as she had trained the Huntsman, setting her mind only onto her, how to serve her best. And once she had the girl wrapped around her finger, believing that she could trust Regina, she would allow her to think she had hope. If Regina could control the blonde well enough, her magic could be at the Queen's disposal. "I will deal with her personally."

"I see." Henry said and knew that this settled it. It was all his daughter wanted to reveal to him tonight.

* * *

Emma grimaced. The sheer thought of being alone with the Huntsman was not something she looked forward to. If she could spend her time with Parker instead, well- that would be much better. It would be like a dream come true. Yet, here she was. Walking through the long hallway of the Queen's private wing with this silent mope, holding her shoulder and guiding her to her new bedchambers.

For a moment they both just stood there, studying the faded, old wooden door which was intricately craved into with an artist's rendition of an apple tree. _'Subtle,' _Emma thought sarcastically. The Huntsman let out a soft sigh and turned to Emma. "You should seriously consider what you just got yourself into Miss Swan."

She looked at him sharply and Emma felt like a small child again who was scolded by an adult. "Someone else is being mistreated on my behalf. I had no other choice." She stated.

"Death would have been a better option." He pulled away at the leather glove of his right hand. The Queen's symbol looked as though it was branded right alongside with Emma's. The Huntsman moved closer, his marked hand rested on Emma's upper arm and she felt her whole body stiffening under his touch. He narrowed his eyes, his voice sounding bitter. "Please forgive me, but understand that Her Majesty does not let her possessions out of her sight."

"I am not an object." Emma shook his hand off of her arm to push open the doors in front of them. "I am a person Huntsman, same as you are." With a bit of effort she was able to open the door wide enough for the two of them to step in.

Looking around she found herself standing in her new chambers. It was strangely oriented, a high-ceilinged small room, with great glass-paned windows. The décor and the furniture were the height of elegance; the red stonewalls were painted all over with an intricate floral design. And mirrors seemed to a common thread in this wing of the castle since she spotted a good dozen smaller sized ones in the room. Books she couldn't even read were piled up neatly upon the many shelves, their contents covering an extensive area about subjects such as magic, history, warfare, astronomy, religion, philosophy. Or so the Huntsman was saying to her. Emma only half listened as she took in the new space. She could see a fireplace at the far end, flooding the interior with warm, yellow light. A comfortable armchair was placed before the fire.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Torture one minute, and comfortable luxury the next? Emma have expected the Evil Queen to come barreling in to ignite the room with her in it.

"The Queen never jokes Miss Swan," the Huntsman replied.

Emma suddenly gasped. A burning sensation was crawling over her skin. It felt as if her hand was getting warmer, the sigil flaring to life. A dark magic was summoning her, beckoning Emma to come to her. She must have felt she didn't immediately respond to her call, the tattoo burned as hot as fire now, the pain becoming stronger and stronger as if Regina's mark was reflecting her growing impatience.

"She's calling. You should go to her quickly, Miss Swan. It is unwise to keep her waiting." The Huntsman suggested, a sudden urgency in his voice now and an alarmed look in his eyes.

"I will be careful." Emma promised him, bidding him farewell.

* * *

The Evil Queen stood at the windows, her cat-like eyes roaming over the unruly waters below. The weather had changed drastically since her talk with Father. Rain clouds shrouded the gray sky; thunder and lightning were the harbingers of an approaching storm. Sudden flashes of light illuminated her face, casting eerie shadows over her features.

For a brief moment the witch wondered if this abrupt weather change had a meaning. Was it an omen or a warning, perhaps? Emma Swan was her newly chosen possession, but did she feel safe here? Her answer would be no. As long as the bastard lived, she had to proceed very carefully. Unlike the Genie, she didn't succumb to her immediately. Her earlier submission had been an act; there had been no sign of unquestionable loyalty or faithfulness. Swan was going to struggle against her bonds of control, like a rabbit unavailingly trying to escape from the snake's deadly embrace. Regina could tell this was going to be an uphill battle.

'_Feeble attempts_,' Regina thought. No one was able to resist her. Furrowing her brow Regina went to the large windows. Beyond the panes she could see the balcony. A tall, imposing shadow was leaning against the stone railing, her skin strangely glowing in the darkness.

The Evil Queen turned to her in a swirl of fabric, her thin black robes fluttering in the wind. Cold brown eyes watched Emma's every move as she walked through the ornately carved wooden door to meet the Queen. Every other servant would probably sink to his or her knees and kiss the hem of her robe, but the bastard seemed to think she was above this groveling behavior, only taking a bow.

"You're late," Regina hissed, a trace of irritation in her voice, the woman's usual composed voice sank to a deeper, sharper tone. She pressed a hand down to the hem of her robe and smoothed out the surface. Now was not the time to take pause for procedure. It was time for Regina to make her next move. "I believe I have finally found a purpose for you. My Valet is no longer capable of performing his duties and as I have a Kingdom to run I cannot waste my time with such remedial task." Regina explained. "So you will take on his responsibilities."

"I'm a Stable Hand Your Majesty. I know nothing about being a retainer."

"Miss Swan, that much is clear," Regina took in the girl's own appearance. She certainly had a way of down playing her femininity with how she carried herself. Lowly riders clothes made for men, terrible posture, and crude language. Her hair though, kissed by the sun itself was adequate the way it framed her face in waves.

Regina's scathing putdown was ignored. "Miss Swan?" the girl asked.

"As much as I enjoy the torment of seeing you react to your proper title, custom has it I address you by your surname now that you are my personal retainer" Well, that was about as close to a silver lining as the blonde was going to get. "My pervious Valet will see to it that you are equipped with the proper handling for your new position." As Emma made no further protest, the Queen continued on. "I would think a deprived girl such as yourself would see this as an honor."

"I prefer the company of your stables," the younger girl replied. "Your Majesty," she added on as an after thought. Emma looked as though she had her fill of this humiliating treatment.

"I'm not interested in your approval. I have offered you a chance to redeem your old mentor's recent misbehavior and to show your loyalty to me. If you deny serving me, your failure shall result in his death. Do you understand?" Regina hissed and clenched her fists, the gesture was unmistakable. There was silence, before ultimately the blonde nodded.

"Good." Regina crossed over towards the doors leading to her chambers. "I wake when the sun rises. I advise you be here before that Miss Swan." Regina retreating form disappeared behind the wooden doors.

* * *

**AN: Sorry it was a bit shorter than my pervious uploads. Jamming in the next part I have written wouldn't feel like a natural chapter ending to me. In the future there won't be as much POV jumping as there was in this chapter. **

**Thank you for the reviews (you guys are awesome.) Love it when I get your insight/constructive criticism. Sometimes when I write I forget how the story may come across objectively as a reader, so when you guys chime in as respectfully as you do it really does help. Let me know if anything is too confusing. Sometimes I leave things out for plot, but if something really doesn't come across right, shout it on out. Also found out a mare is a female horse! Sorry Rocinante, I accidently had you changing genders all over the place.**

**LOCISVU: Yes the Queen controlled Emma's dream, and the Stable Master is alive, but that's all you'll get out of me for the moment. lol**

**Up Next: First day on the job.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to deal with OUAT. No Beta, all mistakes are my own. Start's with Henry's POV then Emma's. Line Breaks indicate a time break throughout the day.**

* * *

A cool morning breeze tugged gently at Henry's cloak wrapped round his neck while he looked out at the river from the tiny balcony of his room. The sun was just coming up, glittering against the surface of the moving water that it rose over. The lulling motion of the small waves flowing toward the shore hypnotized Henry, relaxing him into a state that could have easily had him slipping back to sleep. Taking in a deep breath, he reached for the metal canteen at his belt.

After twisting off the lid, it was lifted to his lips, the strong aroma enough to begin waking the old man, before the liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat. A quiet sigh escaped him and his eyes closed with contentment at the almost perfect moment. The only thing missing was having some comfort of sleeping. It was a nice thought, the man decided, opening his eyes again to the path leading away from the Dark Palace, forcing himself to accept the fact that he was still alone.

The sun was rising, flooding the skies in a pastel swatch of light. The river was as blue as ever and he could feel the cold chill of morning as the sun's first golden rays highlighted his daughter's stronghold. The Dark Palace towered over the lands, the blackish sand rock reflected light like a cut of ebony, the colors slowly changing to a darker, purple hue as the shafts of sunlight started to fade away, deep long shadows creeping over the castle walls.

Henry walked back to the palace in a brisk hurry -as quickly as his body would allow, feeling the world just might be nipping at his heels like a rabid pack of wolves. The castle halls were full of servants today, their dim chatter clouding his head like a cloistered musical cacophony rimmed with edges of black and purple, peeling teeth stripping bones, children's' teeth clacking and snapping at the peasantry. Henry still felt uneasy around the staff, and for many reasons. He had submerged his past, dipped it in the deep gilded palace metals, the Kingdoms deeds and stories of years past, and the countless day-to-day fascinations of his new, worldly life left him busy beyond all belief. While Henry felt an unending sympathy for the poor and unlucky, he could not dwell on these feelings very long. There were more important matters at hand, matters that would determine the fate of the Kingdom, perhaps...

Henry took the long route, a garden road almost completely covered with a canopy of interwoven spring vines made to look ethereal, the way they twisted and curled close against the iron arches over the cobbled walkway. He swung open an old gate that rattled just a touch when he shut it again. Henry fiddled for his key that was hidden deep within a concealed pouch under his outer tunic and slid in into the hole, twisting it carefully, listening to the mechanisms click. This was the private back entrance he rather often used to quickly leave and enter his chambers. Thank the gods he had been appropriated these rooms-they were airy and light, breathy and lovely and open to the adjacent palace gardens, where Henry spent a fair amount of his spare time, for what little there was of that.

Not long after, Henry found himself lost in a deep sea of thought and walking the halls of Queen Regina's castle. He had spoken with the Queen, oh yes, for since the arrival of that simple blonde girl the whole palace had seemed to shudder at the Queen's reaction, and Henry had felt it. He was always impressed by his daughter's great deeds, her achievements, be they for evil or good. Henry did not see things in the pure, simple man's views: good or evil. What was good, and what was evil? What is good for another is often less so for a competitive force, and therefore by that man's enemy's view, he was committing an evil deed by wronging him.

No, there was no good or evil. There was only his daughter. There was only what was known and unknown, was would be remembered and what would be forgotten in years to come.

Outside of Emma's chambers Henry came to a halt. The ones that had once been his before being forced to love further away for his daughter. Closer to in infirmary, as though at any moment he might crumble into his old age. His expression was hard and impassive. He didn't so much as flinch as the guards stepped up, barring his entrance to the room. He registered no emotion at the refusal. He only stopped and stared for a long time. As rigid as he was, he was also perfectly at ease. Henry was always stiff these days, but his demeanor wasn't defensive in any way. He felt no threat or problem with this situation. One of the guards stood in front of him barring his exit. The other didn't seem so certain. His eyes weren't on the uncertain guard. He couldn't acknowledge it.

"Do you forget who I am, already?" Henry asked icily. "I am not just some old man wishing to bother the girl. I was the Queen's Valet. Move." His tone was calm and even. Only once he'd finished speaking, and the guard stepped aside grudgingly, did he look towards the guard next to him – just a young boy. The boy was clad in the same armor, and the same black cloak. His was finer, newer. It was a brighter shade of black than his companion. A new player in the game, just like the girl who slept on the other side of the door. It wouldn't be long before the boy pushes an older guard to the side as Miss Swan had done to him. Henry was secretly furious.

He was granted entrance after that. Henry had no patience or respect for Miss Swan's desire for privacy. This needed to be done, and it needed to be done now. He entered the chambers before approaching the side of Miss Swan's bed. Unknowingly she looked do defenseless. How could such a little girl be such a cause for concern from his daughter?

Curled in his hand was cane. Chin high, back straight, shoulders back. Henry strode forward with two long, purposeful steps. Each was delivered with a rigid grace that only Henry could manage in his old age. Only he could look so stiff and regal at the same time. Unsmiling, he stepped in front the bed, and lifted his cane to the foot of the bed. He tapped against the wood finally making his presence known. With a gasp, the blonde shot up, she met the man's harrowing gaze. Her green eyes were filled with terror as she stared the man down in silence for a moment – only half a second too long, before she tightened her own gaze. Her look pushed another limit – just barely revealing enough to be considered disrespectful. When she straightened up he met Miss Swan with an impassive stare.

"The Queen will be up soon," was all he said. With that, Henry turned away, his short, sure strides taking him back towards the door. There was a great deal more he wanted to say. There was a great deal more he planned to explain. But Henry refused to do it this way. He refused to acknowledge the common girl more than he had to. As dangerous as it was, he wanted the girl angry. He wanted The Queen angry and insulted when Miss Swan lost her cool. He wanted Miss Swan yelling and demanding answers. He wanted to be the only calm one in the room, comforted by the knowledge that having Miss Swan kicked out of the castle would allow for him to know his daughter was safe. Miss Swan and her untapped magic could be dangerous for his daughter. Unlike the Queen, Henry believed it was better to do away with the Stable Hand rather than keep her close.

If the new retainer knew what was good for her she'd follow after Henry.

* * *

"You will enter after a light knock at her door in the morning, always," Henry instructed. "Tend to the fire first and then address Her Majesty. It's proper that you keep your head down and always request if she is in need of service."

"Enter!" a stern voice calls, in a typical commanding tone. Bracing herself, Emma opened the door, and went directly to the fireplace, bearing the too-heavy coalscuttle, to make up the fire before the Queen rose. She tried to keep her eyes on her work, and ignore the fact that both the pervious Valet and the Queen were watching her. And as always, Emma failed. Turning away from the hearth she found herself focused on the Queen, on her expensive looking night robe, that was too tight and small, and as such exposed way too much flesh to be acceptable. Flushing from the heat of the flames, Emma raked out the old fire, sweeping up the ashes, rebuilding the fire, lighting it. Soon a pleasant little glow is blazing in the hearth.

"Is there anything else you'll be requiring, Your Majesty?" She asks, eyes barely on the floor, the ordered mark of respect. The pervious Valet had insisted that she showed the Queen that. Emma complied - if only because she wasn't in the mood to be tortured so early in the morning if she were to meet eyes with those deep, heartless brown ones. She may not look at the Queen, but she could feel the Queen looking at her. Strands of long brown curls are escaping from her loose bun, framing her face.

"You can have my bath water brought up. And then I will take breakfast, I think, in the main hall."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Emma wanted to fight back, strike down the woman. But she slips out, respectfully silent as the old man has instructed her to do, down to the kitchens.

* * *

Duke Carter was a typical nobleman, a pale lump of a man from the North-West of the Evil Queen's. His eyes were two large grey misty orbs circled with hundreds of black rings, signifying a lack of sleep and his large bulbous nose reddened at the tip, like he desperately needed a tissue. In fact, his whole appearance had a quite ill impression, as if the slightest touch of him would leave you bed-ridden for a year. His short hair was of mousy brown and the bristles growing around his face made it look like it had been a long time since he last had a shave.

Duke Carter was guest at the Queen's table this morning, alongside the pervious Valet, and several less wealthy members of the Queen's council. When the blonde had entered the main hall, the Queen's guests paid little noticed to Emma. All except Duke Carter. His eyes followed her as Emma took her place standing behind the Queen, waiting for her next unreasonable demand. Throughout the exchange between all the breakfast diners, Emma had learned that Duke Carter had quite the reputation for himself for being a straight up trader, selling or swapping anything a Duke or Lady in the Kingdom needed and also a runner of many underground gambling events. It was both "extra-curricular activities" as he called them that had made himself a unique pile of his own independent wealth.

However, Duke Carter did have a weakness that more often or not, seemed to land him in a spot of trouble or two; he was a womanizer. Hard to believe with his looks, but where the coin went, many women followed. Emma shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. The glint in his eye repelled the teenager.

"Your Majesty, you surprise us all with you new Valet." Carter declared in his thick and heavy native accent as his small grubby hands reached for his cup. His eyes dragged down Emma's form, and action not lost on the blonde. "Traditionally a role for a male."

"When have I ever let tradition dictate me Duke Carter?" It was the first time the Queen had contributed to the morning conversation.

Carter took his cup and tossed it back as he gulfed down his beverage. "Never said I was complaining" He ran his small grasping fingers over the smooth surface of the table, before swiftly brushing his hands over the breast pocket of his doublet that were tight fitting on his lumpish body. "You could say I'm quite supportive of this decision." After dusting his hands, he picked up a cup of once more and drank from it, his eyes locking with Emma's.

The Queen straightened in her chair and rested her elbows on the table. "Well, you also know that I don't like sharing my property," She took a slice of buttered toast and bit into it bitterly. Emma frowned at the term property. She wasn't some fancy object left to collect dust and cause envy that others couldn't have her.

"Such a pity," Carter mused, a sly Cheshire cat creeping up on his hairy face. As if his general appearance wasn't enough to cause Emma discomfort, Duke Carter wheezed loudly, his chest rising up and down continuously as he cut into a particularly greasy blood sausage.

* * *

Emma stood outside the war room while the Queen discussed matters with her small council. She felt oddly out of place amongst the council's staff, all lined up, awaiting for their next command as though their life depended on it. They all seemed to understand how to serve someone personally, thus making Emma feel even more insecure about her day so far. Breakfast was easy as she just had to stand there, but she had not done so well managing to bring the Queen's scrolls from her own study desk to the war room. After what seemed like hours of silence, she decided to finally speak up.

"How long have you served the Duchess?" Emma asked suddenly, wondering whether she would be able to get any tips from the efficient man standing next to her.

"Five years this fall, Miss. The time has passed so quickly since the Duchess offered me the job."

Just in time, Emma covered up her snort with a cough. Offered? Yeah right. No doubt Duchess Strauss had just grabbed the first servant who walked past and told them they were now her servant, leaving them with no choice in the matter. It had certainly happened that way in Emma's eyes. No one just goes around asking people whether he wanted to be stuck serving a royal ass. No, they had just assumed that it would be an "honor".

"How about you, Miss? How long have you been serving her Royal Highness?"

"Who, The Queen?" Emma looked down at the ground, shifting her weight. "Not even a day."

"Oh, well…very good Miss."

"It's just Emma." Feeling herself begin to get annoyed with the Duchess's servant, Emma switched her original plan. The only thing she was going to learn from this man was self-control, how long he lasted before she either burst out laughing or smacked him one. Why would anyone want to sound so respectful the whole time, especially when there was no one else around to report any insolence.

"Miss Swan!" Or at least, there hadn't been any one around until the Queen herself strode impressively into the hall. The other Valets immediately bowed lowed, their heads almost on their knees as the Queen strode past. Followed behind her was her small council, Dukes and Duchess from the Kingdom, including Duke Carter and Duchess Strauss. Watching her with raised eyebrows, Emma didn't so much as move an inch when the Evil Queen came to a stop in front of Emma, arms folded across her chest.

"Well?" The Queen demanded haughtily. Completely clueless as to what she was supposed to have done this time, Emma stared back.

"Well what?" she eventually asked, knowing the Queen was not going to enlighten her any time soon. At his tone, the other servants' heads shot up, their eyes wide with disbelief that a mere servant would talk to her master that way. Especially as her master was someone of great importance. Rolling her eyes, Emma winced when she saw the expression on the Queen's face. She had seen the motion, and was not best pleased.

"Do I even need to ask you why you're still standing or why you haven't thought to show your respect?"

"What were you expecting?" Emma muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

"You've picked up quite the fiery spirit Your Majesty," a Duchess said, mocking the way Emma had acted.

"Shame. You should really try my methods Your Grace," Duke Carter offered helpfully, "They always seem to have the desired effect." Emma did not liking the way the Duke's face was clouding over. Duke Carter's eyes narrowed in on Emma, making her take a small side step away from him. She barely noticed the move herself, but he had an easy time unnerving the blonde.

"Do the slightest thing wrong tonight or I will have to find myself a new servant at dawn," The Queen finally said to Emma, keeping her voice low so only the blonde could hear. The threat was well implied without her saying a single word about Parker. Striding past the servants, The Queen didn't even acknowledge the deep bows, nor the flabbergasted servants she had left in her wake. Emma was stunned.

"You better hurry, Miss Swan," the Duchess's Valet supplied unhelpfully, not knowing he was risking being assaulted into next week.

"You think?" Emma muttered, stalking past him, trailing behind the Royal group.

* * *

The servants of the Dark Palace stayed out of site as much as possible. Behind the beautifully carved or painted walls of the palace was a maze of narrow, dimly lit corridors, which provided the servants with an "invisible" passage throughout the castle. The Queen ruled the servants with iron fists, and below her, their charges were divided into four classes: hand servants, the most well dressed of the employees, who served as personal attendants to the Queen and her guests, cleaning the private suites of the palace; kitchen servants, adorned in black, cooked and cleaned in the kitchen all day; outdoor servants, in their sturdy, dark attire, tended to the gardens and stables; and the lowest of the serving class, common servants, cared for the large public rooms, passageways, and whatever other painfully difficult tasks their masters could come up with.

Emma had been an outdoor servant. At least she had been until the Queen saw better use for her. Adjusting from outdoor servant to Valet, a position above hand servant was daunting. All day she had met all of the Queen's tasks with a series of fumbling mistakes. The pervious Valet had not been all too helpful. Emma had the sneaking suspicion that the old man was not as senile as he liked to act around her. Whenever Emma tried to ask him for advice his hearing seemed to fade, or his 'memory wasn't as good as it use to be.' And of course the Queen laid blame on her new Valet, accosting her at every turn and causing her brand to burn whenever she felt need for punishment.

Emma huffed and pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes as she surveyed her last two hours of work. She had been on her hands and knees, scrubbing away at the floor of the Queen's parlor. The ungrateful woman had let her floors go for two months without calling upon someone to deep clean it for her and Emma could throttle her for it. When she was finally done for the evening, her knees were practically screaming at her with pain. Tossing the larger hand brush into the bucket, Emma looked over towards the Evil Queen, staring holes into her back.

"Speak." The Queen ordered her at long last. Emma froze, not responding at first. Her jaw was tight as she observed this woman. The order wasn't a confusing one, but she wouldn't speak. Emma refused to speak, once more, to this woman's back, as the Queen all but ignored her the whole day other than the threats and complaints. She refused to have their last conversation of the day be with the Evil Queen commanding her around like some dog. She understood, of course, that the Queen did see her as some dog to be commanded. Emma was still just a servant. She was a subject that should obey her every order. The Queen had made that much perfectly clear with all of there interactions. But there was one thing that Emma refused to accept. Emma wasn't just any subject, she was doing this for Parker and no other reason, and she'd be damned if the Queen didn't see that in these final moments of theirs.

The Queen's spindly fingers traced the crest on the back of her chair, as though petting some animal; it was the only part of her body that moved. Even her breathing seemed to slow as she waited, still as a statue, for her servant to break the silence as she had commanded and show her true colors. But the silence stretched. The Queen's ears pricked back, straining for a sound that never came. Emma could see the woman clench her jaw, irritation boiling up just beneath the surface. Her breathing began to quicken as though her heart rate increased. Finally, Emma moved, but absolutely refused to do as she was told. The Evil Queen watched the flames, using her peripheral vision, until the blonde stepped before the fire to place her branded hand before her. "Just because you did this to me, doesn't mean you'll ever own me." The Queen's brown eyes drifted from the fire to the hand the blonde placed before her, not comprehending for a split second; then it hit her – the bastard was actually trying to assert some authority over her.

Emma stared down the Queen, finally drawing her arm back. Such disrespect and rebellious behavior physically made the Queen's irritation boil into a rage, causing her head to spin. Emma began to walk away, towards the door. "Correct me if I am wrong," said the Queen, her voice resonating loudly in the silence, her fingers now gripping the chair so hard the skin was turning white, "but you are a subject of the Crown and I am Queen."

It took everything Emma had in her not to scream at such disrespect, to keep her voice steady. "I'm here by my own choice to make sure Parker continues to live." Emma turned around, facing the woman. "It's my choice and you can't ever take ownership of that."

If the Queen were the sort of woman to genuinely smile, and revel in a triumph, that would have been the moment. As it was, the moment only granted her a moment of satisfaction. Her face remained as sober as ever, her body-language rigid and regal as ever. When the words reached the Queen's ears, she came to a halt.

Emma waited only a moment, staring at the door, before turning. The blonde turned slowly on her heel, hands clenched at her sides. She radiated tension, or concern in any way. She was at ease as Emma could ever be. Relief that she finally gotten the last word against the Queen.

"I apologize, Miss Swan." The Queen answered, after a too-long silence. Her voice was deep and calm. Too calm – the tone of a woman who knew something she wouldn't be sharing with everyone else. "I thought I made it perfectly clear how this game was going to be played when you accepted these terms." There was guile in her tone. Perhaps she had spoken an apology, but it hardly sounded genuine coming from the woman.

Another hollow statement. More pretty words that were expected. "I give you an order, then you follow it. As long as your little friend is under my thumb, then I can do with you as I please." She stated pointedly. The Queen was going to get Emma to follow orders, to a T. She would do everything that was commanded of her. And when the Queen told her to speak, and she would speak.

Emma wasn't going to make this easy. She was not going to bow or feel guilty for anything. She'd done nothing wrong. Not in the past, and not now. "So now what? Are you going to use your magic on me again?" With that, she felt silent, staring boldly across the room at the Queen. "Go ahead."

The Queen paused for a moment, pondering the blonde's words as if too see she was bluffing. "No, nothing will happen to you tonight," the Queen admitted. Her controlled steps towards the blonde were somewhat unnerving but she held her ground. Even when the Queen seemed to cross into Emma's personal space, she stood her ground. "Just the Stable Master. I can just go down and visit him now and let him know how ungrateful you are for this opportunity to serve me. How easily you forget that your actions determine what happens to him."

With one final step, the space between the two women was closed. The Queen let Emma move back, just to follow until Emma had nowhere else to move. "Tell me Miss Swan, did you plan this little conversation in your head all day?" Her hand can up to curl around Emma's neck and gently squeezed. "Practiced what you were going to say as you stormed in here and told me what was on your mind?"

Emma was pushed back against the wall, pressed against the hard stone and the Queen's body. "I don't need magic to destroy you," her breath washed over Emma's face. Her cheeks flushed at the close proximity.

The feel of the Queen against her was confusing the blonde. At seventeen and never around people her own age, she had never been this close to someone. The Queen's body was fit, not as soft as Emma would think a Royal would have. Images of the Queen from that morning flashed in her mind and there was a strange heat rising in her stomach. On one hand her position almost felt good, but the Queen's hand against her throat was bruising.

"Interesting" The Queen's grin turned sinister. "You seem to be enjoying this," As if to test her own statement she rocked her hips against the blonde, causing Emma to let out a struggled moan. Her own body was acting against her; doing things she had never experience before in her life. Over and over she told herself that she shouldn't have enjoyed this. "Breaking you just became so much more enjoyable." The grip around her neck loosened as the Queen's hand trailed down to her collarbone.

Emma tried her best to move away, but even without the Queen's magic she felt trapped by the woman. "Wouldn't you prefer to be rewarded at the end of the night Miss Swan," Emma gasped as she felt the Evil Queen's mouth go for her exposed neck. As soft as the action of the Queen's tongue was dipping into the hollow of her throat, Emma wasn't prepared for the sharp bite the Queen placed in her skin. "Instead of being punished?"

The Queen went in for the kill. Her hand reached behind Emma and was placed at the top of her back, stroking her shoulders gently. "Miss Swan," she said just loud enough for Emma to hear. "The next time you think it's wise to go against me, remember this. Remember that your dear Parker's life is in my hands. Remember how much more pleasant this could be for you and how good it feels to be rewarded by your Queen." Her eyes looked Emma over and she smiled her wicked smile, walking in step with her until she decided to lead the way. "Come back tomorrow dear and try again." With an unceremonious push, Emma was in the hall alone.

Emma walked out of the room and leaned against the closed door behind her. Closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath and ran her fingers through her blonde tresses. She wasn't sure what was happening to her. Desperately she tried to clear her mind to understand the weight of her situation. A hand went up to feel where the Queen had bit her. There was a stinging sensation when she traced the spot with her finger. Great, another mark from Her Majesty. Her first error had been made the day before when she rashly entered the arrangement. For it was the first piece moved across their chessboard of this little game against the Queen and she already felt as though she was loosing. Now she was back peddling just to keep up. For after all, the game had only just begun.

* * *

**AN: Whew, kind of long update, and the cuts towards the middle were somewhat choppy with all the time jumps, but I wanted to convey the feeling of what Emma's first day was like instead of just listing off things like some bullet points. Now that Emma finally grasps what she has gotten herself into, and Regina has found what she thinks to be an effective way of keeping her heeled, things will get interesting. As always, thanks for the Follows/Favorites/Reviews and all you ninja readers out there.**

**I also got a lovely PM, which was very nice. Thank you for that AliceCameron13**

**Up Next: Emma gets a visitor. Can you guess who?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing dealing with OUAT. No Beta, so all mistakes are my own (Didn't proof this as well, so sorry for the errors!). Shorter than my last chapter so I apologize in advance. POV's: Emma and Regina**

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"I told you to be careful."

The smell of horses and straw filled the air. Not a place for a Valet. But Emma wasn't one to take notice of where one did or did not belong. Cautiously, she peered around the door of the stable, only to find the good Huntsman watching her.

Morning was still upon them when Emma had made her way to the darkened building. The smell of manure was overpowering and, almost, a little reassuring. The Huntsman simply walked through the doors and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Emma had frowned, brow furrowing. Hand stilling, Emma paused in brushing down Rocinante as the high-pitched whine of the nearby wolf reached her ears. Rocinante's ear flickered in annoyance and the horse stamped one hoof against the stable stall floor.

"Sshh, quiet boy," the Emma murmured, patting the horse's flanks as she went to shut the pen's door. Heaven forbid the Huntsman's wolf got any ideas. "Really?" Emma's brows were raised in an incredulous look as the tone of her voice spoke of her disbelief. "Following me? Again? I mean, I'm flattered and, I won't lie, a little disturbed but … it's my free time."

The Huntsman had folded his arms across his chest and given Emma a clearly disapproving look.

"What?" Emma had asked, shifting uncomfortably under the knowing gaze of the man.

"It's almost like you want to aggravate the Queen." his eyes had shuttered into twin glares, "How do you think she'd react if she knew you were down here by yourself? Do you really think you've experienced the worst she has to offer Miss Swan?"

Emma swallowed hard. She would have to do some quick talking to get out of this fix, but she was pretty sure she could manage it. There was a pang of sympathy when she realized he must have known pretty well just how far the Queen would go punishing someone. "I'm not alone if you keep following me Huntsman," she grinned, satisfied with her cheeky comeback.

"Miss Swan. How many ways can I warn you about the Queen?," the words were said in a low, reverent tone even as the Huntsman turned away so that his face was hidden from sight, looking for any spies "She is neither kind nor forgiving."

Emma wanted to deny it, to shake her head and laugh away the nerves, but the Queen had caught her off guard last night and lying now would feel too much like spitting in the Huntsman's face. So far he had been, in his own way, nothing but kind to her since her branding. The blonde haired girl bit her lip, "As much as I want to convince myself that, I can't help but fight back," she admitted. Emma's whole life had been about fighting back. Proving to people that her last name did not defy her. She couldn't simply switch it off, fighting was instinctual at this point.

"You're not going to even try? If you don't try she will take that fight away from you, along with everything else you feel!" The Huntsman broke the uncomfortable silence with the bitter cry. As Emma made no move to submit, he let out a sigh. "Fine then. Forget I said anything and go back to your rebelling."

"I'm sorry."

The words were out of her mouth before she could think. The man froze, his shoulders tensing under the nearly ever-present chain mail shirt. The admission, in the form of a two wold apology, had left them both speechless for long minutes. Finally Emma had turned to face the older man, her watcher, and her green eyes had been kind and...a little sad.

"I'm sorry."

The Huntsman's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Why are you sorry?"

"The Queen's laws, her unbending, stubborn rules have caused so much pain for me growing up. You don't know what it's like…to have people look past you as if you didn't even have the right to exist." A tear welled up in Emma's eyes, but both ignored its presence. She brought a hand up to brush it away. "Parker was the only person to stand up for me. When the guards brought to the palace years ago, he vouched for me, even though we had never met. He saved my life."

Emma smiled, a soft, kind thing that lit her face up and gave her striking features an even more powerful appearance.

"Miss Swan...I may not know what life has handed you, but don't assume you are the only one with a sad tale in this castle." Though his words had clearly been said to put Emma in her place, the Huntsman seemed relax, and even sympathetic. "You have to keep reminding yourself why you took on this burden. Until you can bring yourself to fully understand the Queen's anger could you be a bit more careful?" he pleaded, knowing that if he witnessed the girl disobeying again he would have no choice but to take action, "don't make me hurt you."

Emma did not know how to respond to that so she had bowed her head in a mutual understanding, a small head nod and the lowering of her shoulders, backing away from the Huntsman. A feeling of awkwardness had washed over her so strong she thought it might kick her shaking knees out from under her. She swallowed.

"I'll consider it" the words tripped over themselves in her haste to reassure the Huntsman.

His shoulder's relaxed. "That's the closes thing to a yes I'll get from you, isn't it?"

Emma found herself smiling caught in the act of trying to gloss over his plea. The Huntsman rolled his eyes and for once a playful glint sprang to his blue eyes.

"The Queen made her way to the war room after she dismissed you. Perhaps one day you'll pay mind to her schedule and not have to be reminded constantly of where you have to be."

The awkwardness flowed into something more fraternal and familiar, Emma could practically feel the void between them – that black place separating them– filled to an overflowing wave of acceptance.

"Perhaps."

* * *

"My Queen, do you truly think this wise?" Archduke Parkhill asked tightly from the far end of the table. Silently, her face blank, Regina turned her dark gaze to the man. The massive table, nearly larger than any other furniture in the Dark Palace, was filled to capacity. There were even a few nobles standing around the perimeter of the room. The banners had been called in – all of them. Every noble house in the Northern Kingdom was present. There were whispers across the lands as nobles flocked to the seat of their Queen. They all new something big was coming, and these men and women had just had the rumors confirmed. War was coming. Either they joined in now, or the war would swallow them up, too. As she scanned their faces, Regina could see the answer in their eyes. Some looked uneasy, but she knew they weren't fool enough to oppose her and the numerous Dukes that would happily follow her in this venture.

At the far end sat Archduke Marcus Parkhill. Regina knew the sigil of house Parkhill – a fool. She thought it inspiring when she was young. Their words were a reminder that any man could be played a fool. She believed it. Other royals, great though they might be, could always be played a fool if one knew what they were doing. She could always manipulate others into following her if she played her cards right. Now, she wondered if they really deserved such admiration. Perhaps they were just fools their selves. Was this man to be the first to defy the Evil Queen since the fall of her mother?

"Do you think it wise to allow her and that bumpkin on the throne any longer?" Regina asked pointedly. Her voice was tight and cold. It rang clearly across the cavernous room. There wasn't a sound save the breathing of the dozens of men and women. "I cannot tell you what to believe." Regina stated tightly. She wouldn't say it. She wouldn't blatantly force their hands. But everyone knew their hands were tied in this matter. Nobles of the Northern Kingdom didn't rebel against their Queen. Not ever. They knew what happened when they stood against the Evil Queen. She would have the fealty of every man and woman in this room, or their head in it's stead. They might think this war meant death. For some, it would. But at least they would die trying. "The decision is yours –" Before she finished speaking, the door clattered open, and thirty four pairs of eyes shifted to the intruder.

Her jaw was taught as she took in the image of her Valet. A few of the men began to whisper among their selves, their attention diverted from the new body in the room. Staring across the cavernous room at her servant, Regina called over one of the serving boys in the room. Her gaze remained fixed on Miss Swan as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, intended only for the ears of the young boy at her side – the son of one of the Counts in this very room.

"Find the Huntsman, and send him here to replace Emric." Regina ordered in a low voice. "Tell Emric to wait for me in guard's quarters until I arrive." Her voice was crisp as the order left her. She couldn't rightly dismiss the guard for letting in her Valet, but the man would be getting a long lecture about what an order was. Clearly the definition had evaded him. Miss Swan might have been her personal retainer, but the guard was left with strict instructions to let _nobody_ in. If she wasn't even going to allow her own father in the room, why would she allow Miss Swan in? Every noble in the Northern Kingdom was in counsel. Did this girl think they were merrily sipping tea?

"I see the lost cub has finally seen fit to return home." Regina remarked tonelessly. She leaned back in her chair; forearms resting on the armrest of her tall-backed chair. She made no move to dismiss her current company. Instead she beckoned the blonde to her end of the room. Not allowing herself to be caught up by the interruption, Regina continued to address her company.

"An ambush on the Southern Kingdom. They've grown complacent in their time of peace. I've waited too long to finish our assault and they've been lulled into a false sense of security." As the young girl approached her chair, Regina reached out, yanking the blonde's hand down to have her land on top of her lap. In light of her little discovery last night, Regina attempted her new tactic for quelling the blonde's insistent rebelling.

The Queen turned her body towards her struggling Valet and she leans over, pressing her lips softly against the girl's neck. Miss Swan blinked, pulling away slightly in surprise. "What are you do—"

"If you contest, I will not hesitate to draw blood." Regina whispered into Emma's ear. "In front of everyone." The girl seemed to understand, furrowing her brow and sitting still.

Hoping to get back on track, it was the Archduke at the end of the table who spoke first. "And..." the Archduke's throat began to swell up, a knot forming there. He did his best to keep his eyes trained on only the Queen "And what of the Kin-" He stopped himself before upsetting Regina "the Usurpers in the South? This is not the first time we have set out to their lands. They have many allies from the West who will join them in their defense."

"... Yes, I see where their heartstrings are pulled." She chuckled and relaxed in her chair of hierarchy, placing a bold hand on the inner thigh of Miss Swan's. The teenager squirmed in her lap at the contact -in protest or acceptance she was not certain. "They are of no concern to me, yet."

Regina's gaze shifted to Emma's lips, as she watches the girl feeble tries to keep still. Her heart pumped just a little harder at the sight of how uncomfortable Miss Swan was. Her eyes drop down to the muscles in the blonde's neck as she swallowed, watching as they contract, and she felt the familiar flutter of lust in her chest, the slight ache between her legs.

"Enough of this!" Regina called loudly, "The decision is yours. You have until sundown to decide. We will meet again after supper." She gestured towards the door before clamping down on Emma's leg, clearly finished with this meeting. One by one each of the men and women filed out of the massive room. The room looked much like her throne room – though it was designed in a very different method. The walls were made of rough stone tiles. The room was in the heart of the Dark Palace – in the center of the mountain. There were no windows anywhere in the room. Lining the hall were massive, ornate pillars made of purple and black marble. The room was lit by several dozen torches on the walls, as well as two large cauldrons on either end of the room.

Regina's gaze flickered up once, then back down to Miss Swan's neck, noticing the similar sheen of sweat there. "Shh," murmurs Regina, moving a hand to pull the younger girl back into her own body. She kisses the blonde's neck once more, tasting the saltiness from the sweat and grinning. Emma's eyes flutter at Regina's lips on her neck. Her breath hitches as the brunette nibbles, then sucks at her flesh.

"S-Stop…" she mumbled, clearly still trying to fight against her current predicament.

"Mmm, why?" purrs Regina, moving her lips to the blonde's earlobe and nipping it gently. "Don't you like it?" she whispers, her breath heavy against Emma's ear. Regina grins as she feels the girl shiver. The blonde jerks, her breath hitching at the sudden touch, her eyes closing completely as a new wave of heat washes over her.

"Yes, you like it," murmurs Regina in Emma's ear once more, a low growl lacing her words, her eyes flashing in the low light. "Why wouldn't you? A bastard will accept any attention." As her hand moved up further, she felt Emma stiffen at the movement. A pale hand clamped down on her own, pushing it away from its intended goal. Again Regina pushed forward, only to be rebuffed by the younger girl again.

The blonde tried to push herself up off of Regina. "Stop," she ordered the Queen, whose eyes snapped open and was met defiance. Before Miss Swan can do anything, Regina stands, shoving against the edge of the table, holding her with magic.

Regina's lips were already back in their previous position on Emma's neck. The girl whimpered softly underneath her as the Queen kissed and licked and bit her way across pake skin, her hands making quick work of the drawstrings on the collar Emma's shirt.

The girl struggled against her restraints, clearly torn between an array of emotions. Confusion, lust, anger, all were present as she forced to battle against Regina's magic. "I said stop!"

Feeling like something is missing, Regina tangled her fingers in the mess of blonde locks and pulled her up roughly, crushing their lips together in a frenzied kiss. Moving her lips back to the brunette's ear, Regina whispers, "I always get what I want," before nipping the sensitive flesh there. Pinning the girl against edge of the table, Regina positions a leg between Emma's, pressing her upper thigh against her groin. She hears Miss Swan's denying plea before she is taken by surprise.

Regina was flung back, her knees hitting the back of her chair, causing the Queen to tumble back into her seat. A crackling sound resonated between the two women, as they stared each other down. Emma looked almost as shocked as Regina had felt with the new found proof of her Valet's magic. The only difference was, Regina knew exactly what had happened, while the blonde seemed to stand in front of her, appearance slightly ruffled from their encounter, but mostly ignorant to what she had just done.

* * *

**AN: Hey party people. Thank you so much for all the love you give me (Reviews, PMs Following, Favs, Readers lurking in the dark.) As a token of my appreciation I have decided that after every 50****th**** review, I'll do a separate One-Shot, catered to the request of said 50****th**** reviewer. Guests and I will have to work something out in terms of communication, but we'll cross that bridge. I'll continue this "Operation: Thank You" for every 50 (not that I ever imagine or expect getting astronomical amounts of reviews.) reviews. It means so much to me that you take time out of your day just to even read this story, so I want to give back! So number 50, be on the look out for a PM!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything dealing with OUAT. No Beta: all mistakes are my own. Rushed to push this out, so there will probably be a few more mistakes than usual.**

* * *

Thirty-four pairs of eyes fell on Emma as she made her way into the large war room. Perhaps she should have listened to the guard on the other end of the door. The Evil Queen looked anything but please to see the blonde.

Whispers filled the room, clearly directed at Emma arrival, as she awaited a response from the Queen. All the members in the room were well dressed, all seemingly trying to outshine each other in wealth. The Queen's eyes never left hers as she motion for a young boy to come closer. Emma shifted in her spot as the boy carried out whatever silent command the Queen ushered. Unbeknownst to Emma, Duke Carter had yet to pry his own eyes away from her.

"I see the lost cub has finally seen fit to return home." The Queen remarked tonelessly. She leaned back in her chair; forearms resting on the armrest of her tall-backed chair. A lone hand was raised, beckoning Emma to her without a bat of an eyelash. Placing one reluctant foot in front of the other Emma made her way past the all the seated nobles. She would not let them see how out of place she felt as she stood beside the Queen. Clearly this was not a meeting to go over formalities. The words coming from the Queen were filled with hate as she talked about the Kingdom south of here.

"An ambush on the Southern Kingdom. They've grown complacent in their time of peace. I've waited too long to finish our assault and they've been lulled into a false sense of security." Emma felt a hand grab her, yanking the blonde's hand down to have her land on top of the Queen's lap. Caught off guard, it took Emma a few seconds to realize her position before she tried to struggle to stand up again.

The Queen turned her body towards Emma, leaning so close that she could swear she felt the Queen kiss her neck. "What are you do—"

"If you contest, I will not hesitate to draw blood." The Queen threatened into Emma's ear. "In front of everyone." Furrowing her brow Emma decided to stay still. Embarrassment was seeping in as the men and women continued on without questioning the Queen's actions. Now she felt like an over grown doll the Queen could easily show off to all her friends. It was either this or public torturing Emma reasoned.

Most of the statements from everyone in the room were lost on the former Stable Hand. Whatever it was they were discussing, it did not seem to favor the Southern Kingdom. What would cause the Queen to suddenly want to attack a peaceful nation? There was a history between the Queen in the South and the Evil Queen. Stories passed from one servant to the next about a long standing hatred of the 'Fair Queen of the South.' Over the past few years there had been no active attacks against the other nation, causing most to believe the Evil Queen had settled with the idea of indifferent peace.

Her attention was brought back as a dainty hand settled on her own lap. As the hand lazily traced patterns on her thigh, Emma squirmed at the feeling. It was not entirely unpleasant, until Emma reminded herself that it was the Evil Queen who was causing the sensation.

"Enough of this!" The Queen called loudly, "The decision is yours. You have until sundown to decide. We will meet again after supper." She gestured towards the door before clamping down on Emma's leg, clearly finished with this meeting, and not Emma. One by one Emma watched as the audience filed out of the massive room. All potential hope of escaping her time with the Evil Queen intact left through the doors, condemning Emma to suffer alone.

"Shh," Emma hears, a forceful hand pulling the Emma even closer into the Queen's own body. Another kiss against the blonde's neck was followed by a grin she could feel against her skin. Emma's eyes flutter at Queen's lips on her neck. Her breath hitched as the brunette nibbled, then sucked at her flesh. Emma was inexperienced with this sort of thing. Being a social leper had it's drawbacks, leaving the blonde unsure of her body's own reactions. This wasn't how she should be reacting to such a person, was it? She was suppose to feel wrong about it, not enjoy it.

"S-Stop…" Emma mumbled, not ready to give in.

"Mmm, why?" purrs the Queen, moving her lips to Emma's earlobe and nipping it gently. "Don't you like it?" she whispered, her breath heavy against Emma's ear. The blonde jerked at the contact, her breath hitching at the sudden touch, her eyes closing completely as a new wave of heat wash over her.

"Yes, you like it," murmured the Evil Queen in Emma's ear once more, a low growl lacing her words. "Why wouldn't you? A bastard will accept any attention." Emma's eyes shot open at the mentioning of her birth stature. Anger won over the strange sense of confusing heat that had been guiding her actions.

As the hand moved up further on her leg, Emma stiffen at the movement. Her own hand clamped down on the Queen's, pushing it away from its intended goal. Emma would prove to the haughty woman that she was not some common harlot begging for any sort for attention.

No matter how good it felt.

Again the Evil Queen pushed forward, only to be rebuffed by the younger girl. With a clearer mindset Emma tried to push herself up off of the older woman. "Stop," she said. Before Emma could do anything, the Queen stood up in one clear motion, shoving the girl against the edge of the table, holding Emma in place with magic. The Evil Queen's lips were already back in their previous position on Emma's neck. Her body defied her by reacting to the touch. She felt her shirt getting looser, threatening to fall off her shoulders.

Emma struggled against her restraints, torn between an array of emotions. Her body and mind were on clearly different sides of this battle. Confusion, lust, anger, all were present as she forced to battle against the magic. "I said stop!"

The Queen tangled her fingers in the mess of blonde locks and pulled Emma up roughly, crushing their lips together in a frenzied kiss. The connection of flesh left a satisfying lingering spark as the Queen moved back to Emma's ear. She whispered, "I always get what I want," before nipping the sensitive flesh there. Pinning Emma against edge of the table, the Queen positioned a leg between Emma's so it was pressing against her groin.

Unable to take the assault, Emma cried out. Streaming from her chest, a cool feeling began to bubble inside her. The pressure was unlike the binding effect the Queen had forcing her to the table. As the pressure continued to fester, Emma actually felt the feeling travel through her arms and down to her hands. The cold sensation was causing her hair to stand up at attention before the feeling rushed out of her arms and through her fingertips. The Queen was pushed away from Emma, falling back into her chair.

A crackling sound resonated between the two women, as they stared each other down. No longer burdened by the Queen's restraints, Emma felt weak. She was expecting to the Queen upset, but she was met with a knowing, if not somewhat shocked, look. Emma wished she could say the same about hereslf.

* * *

Some people could speak and speak, their mouths running like liquid flowing water. They just kept on. They made Duke Carter's job easy, but not nice. Sometimes Carter hungered for the real meat of the game. This was before he taught himself that the best games were the ones you create yourself. Watching the pieces move, sliding figurines, power and war and chance all equal factors; and at the proper time, you move your hand into play. You influence the play of the board, breaking the tie bit by bit until the Kingdom is united again and even though they will never know you, not the fighting lords, nor their weeping ladies, not even the hundred-thousand peasants whose lives you might have saved, it is so thrilling. Truly, the most thrilling game of all.

Carter's day had been profitable in that he'd spoken with a myriad of dignitaries yet-the day was still young. They were all flocking to the Palace for high noon, and Carter, whose hand would be surely stirring the pot tonight, was deeply excited. So excited was he, in fact, that his smile was brimming from ear to ear. He walked with a certain poise that exuded pleasant compliance with the way the world was moving. His hands swayed against his sides as he ambled down a well-groomed path. He was deep in the woods by now, having walked past rows of hedge after trimmed hedge and various rosy specimens that bloomed happily under the light of the simmering sun.

It was no later than midday, yet Carter felt the shadows growing long, the time easing up behind him and this set his feet all the quicker a-plodding. He rarely liked to waste time, though, granted, he would most prefer wasting it in the company of a beautiful woman. Some men hunted in their spare time, some men jousted; for Carter, this was the most harmless of places to spend his hours. And the court was full of his spies. All the pawns came flitting in and out, speaking in a language only Carter understood.

He was looking around for his pawns when he came upon a little enclosure. Carved of birch wood, its latticed sides and circular roof were woven with dark green, healthy vines. It was a shaded gazebo, and underneath sat a shadowy figure, someone not of the Dark Palace, though Carter did not recognize him in the shade. His longer hair flowed neatly to his shoulders as he bent, Carter guessed, doing needlework, though he was alone. It was difficult to see his face from afar, so Carter approached. He thought a serving boy would be inside at this time of day, making preparations for the feasting, but apparently not.

The figure, unfazed at the intrusion, dropped his work as he stood to mockingly bow to the Duke, ever confident. "Forgive me Duke Carter, I did not expect you to come here in the Queen's woods so soon. I assumed we would have met after supper..." The voice was slightly high for a man, sinister and chilly. Pushing for more light, Carter let out a gasp.

"Dark One," dropping his head as low as his large body would allow. "Forgive me. "

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin spoke sweetly in reply to his sudden appearance; the Duke acted timid as a mouse, though Rumpelstiltskin knew he couldn't possibly be any more frightened of him that his sovereign Queen. Tucking his scaly hands into the open sleeves of his patterned tunic, Rumpelstiltskin glanced down at his servant, his face a silent, but not unpleased, mask.

"You are forgiven Carter," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "In fact I've been waiting for you," his voice quickly trailed off.

The Duke had looked to be deep in thought, and it almost pained Rumpelstiltskin to realize he had obstructed his thinking for he rushed to bow very hastily for him. He nodded curtly and smiled pleasantly in return, granting the Duke unspoken leave to discontinue his formalities.

Rumpelstiltskin withdrew a soft hand from the pocket of his long patterned sleeves and gently touched the fabric of his work. "And what news do you bring me of our beloved Queen," Rumpelstiltskin said dryly.

"The Queen has sought out the council of her bannermen," the Duke offered. "She plans to move on the Southern Kingdom after this winter's season. No one will speak out against her, but some have their doubts." All things Rumpelstiltskin already knew would happen. The real surprise was how soon she had decided to act. This was not what he had planned. Pieces of his plan had not yet been set in motion for things to progress so quickly.

Rumpelstiltskin looked to the woods around him; he paid special certain attention to the wild flowers, their bright red tiny plumes a great contrast to the leaves from which they grew. Their long, sharp brambles were dark and smooth, almost enticing, a woman's poison handed to her by some famous and gallant man, as often the stories told. Rumpelstiltskin knew that few of such stories were true, but oh, every once in a long while...

His thoughts drifted to the Evil Queen who, in the recent years had turned her focus onto her own Kingdom in the north. Had he not known her better, Rumpelstiltskin would have thought she had given up on her revenge against the woman.

"I thought it was perfectly clear that Henry kept his daughter's attention occupied elsewhere until I instructed otherwise," the Dark One said.

"Henry no longer advises his daughter."

"Oh no?" this caused the impish man to actually sound curious. No news of the old man's death had crossed his ears. "And who, pray tell, does?"

"She has taken up a young girl as her new Valet," Carter admitted. "Rather odd choice too. She had referred to her several times as Miss Swan. Why a Queen would pick a bastard as young as she for a Valet escapes me. The council is not pleased with her choice, but no one says anything. As per usual."

Rumplestiltskin pressed the subject, angry that he was caught off guard by such news. "There's more you're not telling me." Henry was easy to scare. Fear was a quick way to ensure the old man did as he said, so long as Rumplestiltskin didn't harm his daughter. Choosing a young girl, with no notable linage was indeed a strange move on the Queen's part. "Tell me about the girl."

"Her Majesty can't seem to get her wrapped around her finger," Carter said, smiling at the very thought of it. "Shame too, such a pretty little birdie she is. Plucked her right from under her nose in the stables out of the blue. No one has ever seen this girl before and all of a sudden she has caught the Queen's eye. Just today she made quite the show to prove that the Valet was hers."

Rumpelstiltskin did not sit down. Now that Duke Carter was with him, he was curious about many things. The Duke often knew more than he let on, especially being in the service of a Queen. Curiously he folded his arms and surveyed the woods as his mind went on calculating what to do next. The birds tweeted above and around his head, giving a quiet, but alluring quality to the rustling sounds of the trees, the flowers, the wind.

"Perhaps a little visit to the Evil Queen is in order," Rumpelstiltskin said with a telling look in his eyes, the corners of his sweet lips hinting at a knowing smile. He wanted to see for himself the new little toy the Queen had scrounged up.

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**AN: First off: I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter! I have no excuse other than life. This is kind of a cheap excuse for a chapter, and I apologize, but it has some important points none the less. Duke Carter is rounding out to be a slimly creep, but he did bring us a juicy connection to Rumplestiltskin!**

**As always thank you for the visits/favorites/reviews and silent readings. The One-Shot (titled Full Disclosure) is up as promised in the Reviewer Appreciation Giveaway! Thanks to Rtarara for the review/prompt.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A shorter- but much important - update! Sorry for the delay.**

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Three days had passed since Regina and her Valet's little battle in her war room and Regina had made sure Miss Swan had no way of escaping from the confines of her room. Until she found a way to deal with this new development, Regina would make sure Miss Swan stayed out of trouble. Silently watching the girl through one of her mirrors, Regina made little movement to indicate that she heard the arrival of her father.

"I trust you have heard by now about my plans this coming winter?" Regina inquired crisply. She sat an arms distance from her father, one hand clasping the opposite wrist across her lap. Her chin was raised, and her tone gave away no hint of the turmoil inside. Her voice was cold and calculated. Regina made her decisions and now it was time to live with it. She was the feared Evil Queen of the Northern Kingdom. She never let anyone see her weaknesses. Not family or anyone else. She staved it off the only way she knew how. Regina clung to the anger and wore it like armor. It would serve to keep her standing tall until she could find a better defense, at least.

The room was dark, only lit by moonlight, but Henry could see Regina as though she was the sun itself. He wanted to instinctively reach out to capture her lithe frame, bring her closer. Even still, that closeness would not close enough... but it was enough to fulfill that void he felt in her every day absence she had condemned him to. However, it was not enough to overshadow the fear of her plans to attack, especially after taking large measures just to ensure he'd stay by her side. "Please don't do this Regina. Going against the Queen in the South will not bode well."

It was good to know some things, like her father's concern for his daughter, never changed during his long life. However, Regina said no more in regard to what she had been doing with her bannermen for the time being. "Is there something new going around that causes my subjects to question everything I do?" she said coldly. First Emma Swan was denying her –though her defiance was expected at this point-, but now her own father? "When I give an order it will be executed or those who go against me will be. "

"Well said Your Majesty."

The sickening sweet voice of Rumplestiltskin cut through the room, causing both Mills to turn their attention to the man who intruded. Seated comfortably in an armchair as if he own it himself, the impish man cast the two a mischievous look. He seemed to not even understand his presence was unwelcome. "Your mother would be proud."

"Leave us," Regina commanded. While Rumplestiltskin made no move, Henry assumed that it was his turn to leave. Rumplestiltskin gave a mocking wave to the old man's retreating form. The old man would be dealt with later.

_Just like the old times_, Regina thought. Rumplestiltskin thought he could appear whenever he felt like it and act as though he was wanted. The imp brought nothing but bad luck, even if he was always so well informed. His information always came at a price.

Rumplestiltskin observed her as he settled in front of the Queen. Somewhere, he was sure of it, that Regina was close at times to search frantically for the Dark One, though more likely worried he had left a trail of fires that needed to be put out. It did seem like something she would do, if she hadn't been busy ruling her own Kingdom. Responsibility was perhaps nothing Rumplestiltskin was gravely used to, given his need to make sure that only his needs were satisfied. The Dark One didn't like the idea of spending his life attending the needs of others, unless it benefiting himself.

His yellow teeth were bared in a smile and Rumplestiltskin shook his head, "No wine to welcome home your dearest teacher?" Rumplestiltskin directed his gaze around the room, looking for anything to quench his thirst and dull his senses for the conversation he was going to be put through. "And here I thought you rallied the troops to see me here."

"Not that it would be wise to let all of the Great Kingdoms know I've arrived safe and sound," Rumplestiltskin mused. He sank lower in his seat, relaxed and comfortable while Regina sat tense in her own chair. "I forgive you, this time," he teased. "I barely gave word of my arrival, though everyone seems to be talking about your new Valet." Rumplestiltskin's eye flashed to the mirrors as though the image of Miss Swan would be there. The absence of his own reflection was noticeable. Instead the mirror showed him the blonde in question. A wicked grin crossed his features. Oh yes, he little birdies information had been most helpful in giving him the upper hand. Such a wonderful development for a plan he thought was spoiled.

"Have you finally tired of your father in the court life Your Majesty?" He couldn't hold back his curiousness at this point, well aware Regina wasn't going to leak more information than needed. Rumplestiltskin would have to bait his former pupil into explaining why such a drastic measure as calling upon the nobles of the Northern Kingdom had occurred. "Or we can talk about my ventures? I'm sure they are of great interest to you."

Rumplestiltskin certainly knew his way around the palace. That much had been proven time and time again. No matter how many insane misadventures he ran off on – no matter how far he went he always came back in his time. He knew where Regina resided. She bore the insults well. At least that much Regina could be proud of. She was hardly warm to her old teacher. His comments were clipped and pointedly critical, if not outright rude. But Rumplestiltskin still smiled and took it with all the grace he'd expect of a Queen. Rumplestiltskin lacked a great many things, but confidence wasn't one of them. He never, for a second, concerned himself with the opinions of anyone else. Sadly this one impressive thing she could see in her teacher would never actually get vocal praise.

An imposing silence hung between them as Regina appraised Rumplestiltskin. He leaned casually back in his chair, one short leg crossed over the opposite knee. His elbows resting on either armrest, his fingers linked, hand suspended above his stomach. For one long moment, Regina stared, unflinching, absorbing the statement. After a few breaths too long, she came smoothly to her feet, gaze fixed icily on Rumplestiltskin's as she took three long strides towards the edge of the room, and a small table sitting there. Sitting on the table were a few glasses, and a pitcher of wine. Slowly, silently, Regina poured a goblet of wine, before crossing the room with the same slow, sure strides. A heavy hand came down on the back of Rumplestiltskin's chair before she leaned down, placing the goblet in front of him.

Regina was a great many things, but a bad host certainly wasn't one of them. Rumplestiltskin might be a familiar figure in her life, but he was hardly home enough to be considered a resident of the Dark Palace. There were no servants around to assist, and her "guest" had a request. Obligingly, Regina complied. She could easily see herself snapping at Rumplestiltskin and telling him he knew were the wine cellar was. But that wasn't Regina. She was cold and she was often cruel. But she clung to her manners and rules like a second skin. Mother wouldn't have had any of that.

Glaring silence hanging between them, Regina moved across the floor and slid back into her chair with a cat-like grace that only Regina could muster. Her every moment was sure and calculated, colored with perfect arrogance. She didn't hesitate or miss a step, like a lion on the prowl. As she sat back down once more, her ankle crossed once more over the opposite knee, her fingers linking, elbows resting on the arms of her chair. Her cold gaze was fixed once more on Rumplestiltskin.

"The only thing I've tired of is the man's constant need to undermine my decisions. It's time he spent his days as old men should." She responded bluntly. "I'm are declaring war on the Southern Kingdom." Regina announced suddenly. No preamble. No fluctuation in her tone. It was a cold blatant fact, out there for the world to hear. "It would be prudent if you could refrain from drinking their wine while I plot _her_ death." She announced briskly, her mind flashing to the tales she's heard – tales that Rumplestiltskin had recently attended the celebration -unannounced- at Snow White's castle. Her steely gaze raked across Rumplestiltskin's familiar features, searching for any sign that her old teacher actually cared or wanted a part in this all.

"There will be war. My troops will be rallying in the North. We will be marching on the Southern Kingdom and putting an end to their reign of happiness." Snow stood a small chance if she could get all of her bannermen to wage war. But Snow's chances were incredibly slim. Even if matters all favored her,Snow's chances would be slim. It would take a pretty grave turn of events to shift the tide coming her way.

Rumplestiltskin wasn't useless, by any means. He'd be helpful to have around if he wished to aid Regina in this matter. He had a good mind, even if Regina hated to admit it. He would be a great service to their cause if he could stay still long enough to get involved. Part of Regina wished Rumplestiltskin would express actual interest. The other part of him knew better than to expect as much.

"But by all means, tell me of your tales. I hardly have anything else of import to fill my time." She concluded, her tone apathetic. Her apathy was often misinterpreted for coldness. Regina just didn't care, and that wasn't about to change any time soon. She didn't actually wish most people ill, Snow White and her Charming husband being the exception. She just wanted them out of her way.

"War on the South. How very bold of you. Snow will never see it coming and you will at last be triumphant!" his fingers danced to the sing song quality of his voice. "But don't you think it would be even sweeter a victory to see her hurt rather than have her dead?"

As he answered her question, Rumplestiltskin seemed to grow bolder in his inquiry. Regina listened in utter silence as he commented and questioned him. Just like when he had been teaching her, always shooting down her ideas for ones he thought were better. For one too many times this week she had been questioned, and the Queen's patience was thin. Her face remained the cold, unreadable mask as she absorbed her words. Once they drew to a close, Regina came slowly to her feet. With cold calculated purpose, she moved around the small table, stopping in front of her teacher.

"I will remind you once, and only once." Regina stated, her voice registering a note of irritation as she looked Rumplestiltskin straight in the eye, forcing him to meet her firm gaze. "My decisions are not yours to question anymore." She informed him. He hadn't outright questioned her, but he was getting into dangerous territory. Regina didn't make any decision before thinking everything through. Having that doubted was an insult of the greatest degree. She wouldn't tolerate it. "Snow White won't utter another breath if I have my way."

"You have the only bargaining chip Snow and Charming would ever care about." Rumplestiltskin said abruptly. Regina paused, confused at the particular piece of news. Curiosity overran her feelings of frustration.

"What could they possibly love more than themselves?" she sneered.

Rumplestiltskin stood up from his seat, making his way over towards largest mirror on the room. Tracing his spindly fingers against "She's certainly rather beautiful, isn't she?" Rumplestiltskin said. "She has her father's hair, but the chin is so very much her mother."

Regina makes her way towards the mirror, pushing Rumplestiltskin out of the way. Her eyes raked over the blonde looking for something she might have missed. "What is it?" Regina searched for the missing piece Rumplestiltskin clearly enjoyed dangling in front of her very eyes. How could he possible know what a bastard's parents looked like and how could this insignificant being hold any value towards the Queen? "You've gone mad now Rumplestiltskin?"

"You can't see it, can you Regina?" he cackled, taking delight in her puzzled features. "Maybe if she had a head of hair more like her mother," Rumplestiltskin waved his hand over the surface of the mirror, easily manipulating the reflected image to bend to his will. Emma Swan sat on her bed as she had been since Regina last checked on her, now showing the girl with the desire effect. "Look familiar dearie?"

As though seeing for the first time, Regina's eyes went wide at the new image before her. How could she have been so blind as to not see the similarities between her Valet and the one person Regina hated most in her life. "Impossible!" She had always had the aching feeling that Miss Swan looked familiar, but this had never entered her mind. Turning to grab at Rumplestiltskin's collar, the imp was too quick for her. "You took care of her yourself."

"I may have stolen her from them, but I never said she was dead," Rumplestiltskin laughed out. Of course he would find all of this to be comical. The damn imp and his loop holes. "Just look how wonderful this has turned out for you. The Evil Queen has stumbled upon the Golden Couple's darling little girl."

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**Thanks to everyone for continuing to read this fic, even with all the mistakes I carelessly make from time to time :)Also, big news: I have decided to continue my One-Shot prompt from my 50th reviewer. If anyone is interested it is called Full Disclosure. It won't be anymore than ten chapters and will update slower than Don't Say A Word. Check it out if you have the time.**

**Rumple's back story with baby Emma will be explained in the next chapter, but like Rumple himself, I might withhold some juicy detail ;)**


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